Skip to main content

Full text of "St. Nicholas [serial]"

See other formats


v'^sHfr'' 



r-^ 53 ^ 



E^ 




IK 




^ 












wt£^~*— _ 




Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2013 



http://archive.org/details/stnicholasserial261dodg 



ST. NICHOLAS 



AN 



Illustrated Magazine 



For Young Folks. 



CONDUCTED BY 



MARY MAPES DODGE. 



VOLUME XXVI. 
Part I., November, 1898, to April, 1899. 



The CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. 

MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON. 



Copyright, 1899, by The Century Co. 



The De Vinne Press. 



. 



Ubr **y, Univ. «/ 
North C*mlm. 



ST. NICHOLAS: 



VOLUME XXVI. 



PART I. 

Six Months — November, 1898, to April, 1899. 



CONTENTS OF PART I. VOLUME XXVI. 



Amateur Kris Kringle, An. (Illustrated by E. Pollak) Warren Mc Veigh 1 16 

Amatua's Sailor. (Illustrated by W. Granville Smith) Lloyd Osbourne 267 

Animals' Circus, The. Picture, drawn by E. Warde Blaisdell, Jr 395 

Apprentices of the United States Navy. (Illustrated from photographs) .Joseph C. Groff 364 

April Fooling. Poem. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory) Mary K. Seeger 450 

April Shower, Home from School through an. Picture, drawn by ) 

H. Methfessel ) 5 4 

" Arrival " of Jimpson, The. (Illustrated by Henry S. Watson) Richard Stillman Powell ... 3 

Bashful Earthquake, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 69 

Berry Brown, The Ballad of. Verse. (Illustrated by George Wright) . . . .Maurice Thompson 295 

Best Game We Play, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Jessie A. Walker) Annie C. Steele 388 

Betty, The Story of. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Carolyn Wells 210 

313,402,471 

" Big Jack." (Illustrated by B. J. Rosenmeyer) Cabrielle E. Jackson 227 

Bismarck, A Visit to. (Illustrated from photographs) Frederick W. Wendt 55 

Boys OF Siberia, The. (Illustrated from photographs) Thomas G. Allen, Jr 97 

Bright Sides of History. (Illustrated by B. J. Rosenmeyer) E. H. House 31 

140, 201, 332, 380, 485 

Capture of the Unicorn, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Edwin Julian 53 

Case of Mrs. Burrows, The. (Illustrated by S. F. Underwood) George Madden Martin 369 

Catching a Brownie. Verse. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory) Helen M. Chase 28 

China Animals, The. Verse. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory) Elizabeth Cartwright 429 

Christmas Eve at Master Muffet's, One. (Illustrated by W. D. Stevens). Alice Maude Ewell 238 

Christmas Gifts. Verse. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory) Carolyn Wells 233 

Christmas Pudding, The. Jingle. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Malcolm Douglas 158 

Christmas-tree Lights, The. Verse Annie Willis McCullough . . 112 

Chuggins, the Youngest Hero with the Army. (Illustrated by W. ) 

Granville Smith) \ H ' Irving Hancock 39 

" Cristobal Colon," The True Story of. (Illustrated) Mrs. S. S. Robison 461 

mm Cupid and Santa Claus. Verse. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Albert Bigelow Paine 253 

± Cupid's Busy Day. Picture, drawn by Everett Shinn . 331 

£ Dancing Class, The. Verse. (Illustrated by G. Varian) Harriot Brewer Sterling 246 

^ Dark Morning, A. Jingle Ethel H. Staples 245 

00 Discontented Boy, The. Verse. (Illustrated by A. J. Moores) Charles L. Benjamin 71 

— Don's Boots, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Tudor Jenks 281 



VI CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

" Don't Move ! " Picture, drawn by C. H. Provost 184 

Dorothea Puts the Room in Order. (Illustrated by B. M. Waters) . . . .Julia Da row Cowles 392 

Doughty Spirit, A. Verse. (Illustrated by Louise L. Heustis) Rosalie M. Jonas 218 

Dream of the Toy, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Katharine Pyle 126 

Earthquake, A Harmless. (Illustrated by Jay Hambidge) Helen A. Hawley 190 

Elves' Spelling-lesson, The. Picture, drawn by Maurice Clifford 339 

Father. Verse Maud Keary 248 

Field of the Cloth of Gold, The. (Illustrated by G. Varian) Roberta B. Nelson 234 

Fire-making. (Illustrated by Otto Bacher) H. L. Jerome 494 

Fire, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) Laura E. Richards 125 

Fishes' School, The. Picture, drawn by Charles C. Curran 279 

Football OF Long Ago. (Illustrated) Klyda Richardson Steege ... 159 

Fox and Geesk. A Drama in Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 136 

Goblin and the Tide, The. Verse. (Illustrated by J. M. Flagg) Agnes Lewis Mitchill .... 311 

" Good-by, Sweetheart ! " From a painting by F. S. Church 388 

G00PS. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Gelett Burgess . 81 

169, 259, 347, 435, 522 

Harmless Earthquake, A. (Illustrated by Jay Hambidge) Helen A. Hawley 190 

Heat Expands, Cold Contracts. Picture, drawn by G. Varian 391 

Hiding Places in War Times. (Illustrated by W. H. Mclntire) J. H. Gore no 

Home from School through an April Shower. Picture, drawn by \ 

514 



> Henry La Motte, U. S. N . . 413 



H. Methfessel 

Horse-tamer, An Invincible. (Illustrated) Lida Rose McCabe 321 

How Mr. Drake Went to Court. (Illustrated by Oliver Herford) Emma M. Backus 66 

How the Storm Went Round. (Illustrated by Willard Bonte) Elizabeth H. Miller 515 

How We Helped Uncle Sam Prepare for War. (Illustrated by H. 

Methfessel) 

Ideal Portrait, An. Verse. (Illustrated by Louise L. Heustis) Elsie Hill 294 

In Our Lane. Poem Marie L. Van Vorst 30 

Intercepted Valentine, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Louise L. Heustis) . Carolyn Wells 331 

Intercollegiate Basket-ball for Women. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.). Anita L. Corbert 248 

In the Toy-country. (Illustrated by E. Pollak) Mrs. Burton Harrison 355 

Invincible Horse-tamer, An. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea and from X r j a p e m r /, 

photographs) J 

Island Fable, An. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Alvred Bayard 107 

" Jim Crow," My Little. (Illustrated by E. Potthast) Clara Morris 148 

Jingles 27, 72, 79, 112, 140, 158, 245, 246, 255, 329, 428 

"Jungle Book " in the Jungle, The. Pictures, drawn by Oliver Herford 300 

Knowledge at College. Jingle. (Illustrated by G. Varian) Anna N. Benjamin 79 

Latest News about the Three Wishes, The. (Illustrated by William ) rr , 

A. Mackay) } R^rt Hughes 340 

Lessons in Physics. Picture, drawn by G. Varian '. 391 

"Lily Cups." Picture, drawn by B. M. Waters 517 

Lost in Russia. (Illustrated by Hy. Sandham) Poultney Bigelow 463 

Margaret Clyde's Extra. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Isabel Gordon Curtis 13 

Mark Twain's Pets. (Illustrated) Edwin Wildman 185 

" Mark V." (Illustrated by Howard F. Sprague) Claretice Maiko 119 

" Miss Ethel Rose." Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) IV. H. Cady 112 

Mistress Cinderella. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Margaret E. Wilkinson . . . 286 

My Little " Jim Crow." (Illustrated by E. Potthast) Clara Morris 148 

Navy, Apprentices of the United States. (Illustrated from photographs). Joseph C. Groff 364 

New Year's Dream, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Margaret Johnson 208 

New Year's Night. Verse. (Illustrated) Florence Folsom 328 

Old Moon, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Jules Gue>in) D. H. Barron 428 

One Kindly Thought. Poem. (Illustrated by G. W. Edwards) R. W. McAlpine 422 

"Only Ten Minutes More! " Picture, drawn by B. M. Waters 312 

Our Club. Verse. (Illustrated by B. M. Waters) Carolyn Wells 115 

Page of Count Reynaurd, The. (Illustrated by Maxfield Parrish) Evaleen Stein 91 

Pets in the Navy. (Illustrated by G. Varian, from photographs) Mrs. Charles D. Sigsbee . ... 61 



CONTENTS. VII 

PAGE 

Pictures 135, 184, 247, 279, 300, 312, 331, 339, 388, 391, 395, 493, 513, 514, 517 

Pie and the Clock, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. M. Wright) Eliza Atkins Stone 113 

Piece of News, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Margaret Johnson 390 

Pillow-fairies, The. Verse. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory) Annie Willis McCullongh.. 189 

Pirate Poodle, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Oliver Herford) Carolyn Wells. 363 

Points of View. Verse. (Illustrated) Abbie Farwell Brown 247 

"Polaris" and "Cassiopeia," and Other Bears. (Illustrated by F. S. } 

Church) \r. E.Peary, U.S.N 296 

Prince and the Dragon, The. Jingle. (Illustrated by Maurice Clifford) 140 

"Prince" in the Battle off Santiago. (Illustrated by H. S. Watson). .Com. J. Giles Eaton, U. S.N. 452 

Princess Madrigal's Wish. (Illustrated by E. Pollak) Florence Simmons 75 

Professor Rooster's Crowing School. Picture, drawn by H. W. Phillips 247 

Rabbit Woman, The. (Illustrated by the Author) George A. Williams 518 

Raid of the Raffertys, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) R. W. Raymond 193 

Rain Song. Poem Annie Willis McCullough . . 469 

Rivals, The. Verse Carolyn Wells 64 

S. A. C. S., The. (Illustrated) Kirk Mttnroe 114 

Santa Claus Caught at Last ! Picture, drawn by F. Y. Cory 135 

School-girl, A Little. Verse. (Illustrated by Olive Rush) Frances Bent Dillingham . . 330 

Seamstress, The. Verse. (Illustrated by B. M. Waters) Harriot Brewer Sterling. . . . 327 

Shadow of a Care, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Mildred Howells 65 

Siberia, The Boys of. (Illustrated from photographs) Thomas G. Allen, Jr. 97 

Sigh of the Summer Fairies, The. Poem. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory) . .Helen Gray Cone 73 

Sleepy Little Story, A. (Illustrated by E. Pollak) Leonard Bruen 279 

Small Boy's Problem, A. Verse Lilian Dealing 27 

Snow Man, The. (Illustrated by R. G. Vosburgh) Edwin Emerson, Jr. 423 

Sole Survivors, The. (Illustrated by G. Varian) George A. Henty 20 

127, 219, 301, 409, 480 

Spanish Princesses, Three Little. (Illustrated) Jsabel McDougall 179 

St. Nicholas Boy, A. Picture . . 513 

Summer Fairies, The Sigh of the. Poem. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory). .Helen Gray Cone 73 

Taming of Little Pleasant, The. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Mary Tracy Earle 396 

Taming of the March Hare, The. Verse. (Illustrated by P. Newell) . . Christopher Valentine 430 

"There was a Mighty Warrior." Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) . . W. H. Cady 72 

Three Little Spanish Princesses. (Illustrated) Isabel McDougall 179 

Three Wishes, The Latest News about the. (Illustrated by William ) „ „ , 

A. Mackay) \ U *' r " g " 34 ° 

Toy-country, In the. (Illustrated by E. Pollak) Mrs. Burton Harrison 355 

Trinity Bells. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Amelia E. Barr 443 

True Story of " Cristobal Colon," The. (Illustrated) Mrs. S. S. Robison 461 

Two Little Serving-men. Verse J. Edmund Vance Cooke . . 328 

Unfortunate Caller, An. Jingle. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Mary Hicks Van Derburgh. 255 

Valentine Verse. Jingle. (Illustrated by W. H. Cady) Alice W. Kimball 329 

Valentine, Y e . Poem Virginia Woodward Cloud. . 312 

Visit to Bismarck, A. (Illustrated from photographs ) Frederick W. Wendt 55 

Waddletown Races, Going to the. Picture, drawn by Maurice Clifford 500 

What Robin Said. Poem. (Illustrated) Harriet F. Blodgett 470 

Wheat that Drowned the City, The. (Illustrated by Harry Fenn) E. W. C. 377 

When the Old Toys were Young. Verse Katharine Pyle 379 

Wumpity-bump Boys Take Their Annual Donkey-cart Ride, The. ) 

Picture, drawn by W. H. Cady S 493 



FRONTISPIECES. 

"Jimpson, Sighting a Clear Space, Sped Through," by Henry S. Watson, page 2 — "Count Reynaurd and 
Pierrot," by Maxfield Parrish, page 90 — " Queen Mariana of Spain," from the painting by Velasquez, page 178 
— "Washington at the Siege of Yorktown," page 266 — "Little Red Riding-hood," from the painting by 
G. Ferrier, page 354 — "April," by C. M. Relyea, page 442. 



VIII CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

DEPARTMENTS. 

Plays. 

The Changeling. (Illustrated by F. Y. Cory) Harriet Prescott Spofford. . . . 501 

For Very Little Folk. 

Good Manners Gelett Burgess 81 

Caution " " 169 

George Adolphus " " 259 

Interruption " " 347 

Bed Time " " 435 

Bravery " " 523 

Books and Reading 82, 170, 256, 345, 431, 520 

Current Events 1 72, 260, 348, 436, 524 

The Letter-box. (Illustrated) 84, 173, 261, 349, 437, 525 

The Riddle-box. (Illustrated) 87, 175, 263, 351, 439, 527 

Editorial Notes 84, 349, 437 




'JIMPSON, SIGHTING A CLEAR SPACE, SPED THROUGH. 
THE FIELD TRAILING AFTER HIM, AND COULD 
SOUND OF THE FALLING MEN." 

(SEE "THE 'ARRIVAL' OF JIMPSON," PAGE 10.) 



HE COULE 
HEAR THE 



FEEL 



ST. NICHOLAS. 



Vol. XXVI. 



NOVEMBER, 1898. 



No. I. 





I. THE DEPARTURE. 

'HE rain fell in a steady, remorseless 
drizzle upon the rain-coats and um- 
brellas of the throng that blocked the 
sidewalks and overflowed on to the car-tracks ; 
but the fires of patriotism were unquenchable, 
and a thousand voices arose to the leaden sky 
in a fierce clamor of intense enthusiasm. It had 
rained all night. The streets ran water, and the 
spouts emptied their tides between the feet of the 



cheerers. The lumbering cars, their crimson sides 
glistening, clanged their way carefully through 
the crowds, and lent a dash of color to the scene. 
The back of Gray's loomed cheerless and bleak 
through the drizzle, and beyond, the college yard 
lay deserted. In store windows the placards 
were hidden behind the blurred and misty 
panes, and farther up the avenue, the tattered 
red flag above Foster's hung limp and dripping. 
Under the leafless elm, the barge, filled to 
overflowing with departing heroes, stood ready 



Copyright, 1898, by The Century Co. AH rights reserved. 
3 



THE "ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON. 



[Nov. 



for its start to Boston. On the steps, bareheaded 
and umbrella-less, stood Benham, '95, who, with 
outstretched and waving arms, was tempting the 
throng into ever greater vocal excesses. 

" Now, then, fellows! Three times three for 
Meredith." 

" 'Rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 'rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 'rah, 'rah, 
'rah! Meredith!" A thousand throats raised 
the cry; umbrellas clashed wildly in mid-air; 
the crowd surged to and fro ; horses curveted 
nervously; and the rain poured down impar- 
tially upon the reverend senior and the clam- 
orous freshman. 

"Fellows, you 're not half cheering ! " cried 
the relentless Benham. " Now, three times three, 
three long Harvards, and three times three for 
the eleven." 

" 'Rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 'rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 'rah, 'rah, 
'rah ! Har-vard, Har-vard, Har-vard ! 'Rah, 
'rah, 'rah ! 'rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 'rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 
'Leven! " 

Inside the coach there was a babel of voices. 
Members of the eleven leaned out and con- 
versed jerkily with friends on the sidewalk. 
Valises and suit-cases were piled high in the 
aisle and held in the owners' laps. The man- 
ager was checking off his list. 

" Cowper ? " 

" Here." 

" Turner ? " 

"All right." 

" Truesdale ? " 

" Hey ? Oh, yes ; I 'm here." The manager 
folded the list. Then a penciled line on the 
margin caught his eye. 

" Who 's Jameson ? Jameson here ? " 

" Should be Jimpson," corrected the man 
next to him ; and a low voice called from the 
far end of the barge : 

" Here, sir." It sounded so much like the re- 
sponse of a school-boy to the teacher that the 
hearers laughed with the mirth begot of tight- 
stretched nerves. A youth wearing a faded 
brown ulster, who was between Gates, the big 
center, and the corner of the coach, grew pain- 
fully red in the face, and went into retirement 
behind the big man's shoulder. 

"Who is this fellow Jimpson?" queried a 
man in a yellow mackintosh. 

" Jimpson ? He 's a freshie. Trying for right 



half-back all fall. I suppose Brattle took him 
along, now that Ward 's given up, to substitute 
Sills. They say he 's an A 1 runner, and 
plucky. He 's played some on the second 
eleven. Taunton told me, the other day, that 
he played great ball at Exeter, last year." 

The strident strains of the " Washington 
Post " burst out on the air, urging the cheerers 
to even greater efforts. They were cheering 
indiscriminatingly now. The trainer, the rub- 
bers, the coaches, even the bulldog " mascot," 
had received their shares of the ovation. But 
Benham, '95, with his coat soaked through, was 
still unsatisfied, and sought for further tests. 
Two professors, half hidden under umbrellas, 
had emerged from the yard, and were standing 
at a little distance, watching the scene. 

" Three times three for Professor Dablee ! " 
The cheers that followed were mixed with 
laughter, and the two professors moved off, 
but not until the identity of the second had 
been revealed, and the air had filled with the 
refrain of "'Rah, 'rah, 'rah! Pollock!" 

" They look as though they ought to win ; 
don't you think so ? " asked one of them. 

The other professor frowned. 

" Yes, they look like that ; every eleven does. 
You 'd think, to see them before a game, that 
nothing short of a pile-driver or dynamite could 
drive them an inch. And a few days later they 
return, heartbroken and defeated." 

Across the square floated a husky bellow : 

" Now, then, fellows ! Once more ! All 
together ! Three times three for Harvard ! " 

The band played wildly, frenziedly, out of 
time and tune; the crowd strained its tired 
throats for one last farewell slogan ; the men 
in the barge waved their hands; the horses 
jumped forward; a belated riser in Holyoke 
threw open a front window, and drowsily 
yelled, " Shut up " ; and the Harvard eleven 
sped on its way up the avenue, and soon be- 
came a blur in the gray vista. 

" Say, Bob, you forgot to cheer Jimpson." 

The wearied youth faced his accuser, struck 
an attitude indicative of intense despair, and 
then joyfully seized the opportunity. 

" Fellows ! Fellows ! Hold on ! Three 
times three for Jim — Jim — who 'd you say? " 

" Jimpson," prompted the friend. 



THE "ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON. 



" Three times three for Jimpson ! Now, 
then, all together ! " 

"Say — who is Jimpson?" shouted a 
dozen voices at once. 

" Don't know. Don't care. Three 
times three for Jimpson ! " 

And so that youth, had he but known 
it, received a cheer, after all. But he 
did n't know it — at least, not until long 
afterward, when cheers meant so much 
less to him. 



II. 



A LETTER. 



New Haven, Conn., November 19. 

Dear Mother : I can imagine your surprise 
upon receiving a letter from this place, when your 
dutiful son is supposed to be " grinding " in No. 
30 College House, Cambridge. And the truth is 
that the dutiful son is surprised himself. Here 
am I, with some thirty-five other chaps, making 
ready for the big football game with Yale to- 
morrow. Here is how it happened : 

Yesterday morning, Brattle — he 's our cap- 
tain — came to my room, routed me out of bed, 
and told me to report to the coaches for morning 
practise. You know, I 've been trying for sub- 
stitute right half-back. Ward, the regular, 
sprained his knee in the Dartmouth game, and a 
few days ago it went lame again. So now Sills 
has Ward's place, and I 'm to substitute Sills. 
And if he gets laid out — and maybe I ought to 
hope he won't — I go in and play. What do 
you think of that ? Of course Sills may last the 
entire game ; but they say he has a weak back, 
only he won't own up to il, and may have to give up 
after the first half. Gates told me this on the train. 
Gates is the big center, and weighs 196. He is very 
kind, and we chummed all the way from Boston. I 
did n't know any of the fellows, except a few by sight — 
just enough to nod to, you know. 

We left Cambridge in a driving rain, and a big 
crowd stood out in it all, and cheered the eleven, and 
the captain, and the college, and everything they could 
think of. Every fellow on the first and second elevens, 
and every "sub" was cheered — all except Mr. Jimp- 
son. They did n't know of his existence ! But I 
did n't feel bad — not very, anyhow. I hope the rest of 
the fellows did n't notice the omission, however. But 
I made up my mind that if I get half a show, I '11 
make 'em cheer Jimpson, too. Just let me get on the 
field. I feel to-night as though I could go through the 
whole Yale team. Perhaps if I get out there, facing a 
big Yale man, I '11 not feel so strong. 

You know, you 've always thought I was big. Well, 
to-day I overheard a fellow asking one of the men, 
" Who is that little chap with the red cheeks ? " I 'm a 
midget beside most of the other fellows. If I play to- 




" JIMPSON WENT INTO RETIREMENT BEHIND THE BIG MAN'S SHOULDER." 

morrow, I 'II be the lightest man on the team, with the 
exception of Turner, our quarter-back, who weighs 158. 
I beat him by three pounds. 

Such a hubbub as there is in this town to-night ! Every- 
body seems crazy with excitement. Of course I have n't 
the slightest idea who is going to win, but to look at 
our fellows, you 'd think they would have things their 
own way. I have n't seen any of the Yale players. 
We practised on their field for an hour or so this after- 
noon, but they did n't show up. There was a big crowd 
of Yale students looking on. Of course every fellow of 
us did his very worst ; but the spectators did n't say 
anything — just looked wise. 

Most of the fellows are terribly nervous to-night. 
They go around as though they were looking for some- 
thing, and would cry if they did n't find it soon. And 
the trainer is the worst of all. Brattle, the captain, 
is fine, though. He is n't any more nervous than an 
alligator, and has been sitting still all the evening, talk- 
ing with a lot of the old graduates about the game. 
Once he came in the writing-room, where I 'm sitting, 
and asked whom I was writing to. When I told him, 
he smiled, and said to tell you that if anything happened 



THE "ARRIVAL" OF JIMPSON. 



[Nov. 



he 'd look after my remains himself! Maybe he thought 
I was nervous. But if I am, I 'm not the only one. 
Gates is writing to his mother, too, at the other table. 

Give my love to Will and Bess. Tell Will to send 
my old skates to me. I shall want them. There is fine 
skating on Fresh Pond, which, by the way, is a lake. 

We 're ordered off to bed. I guess some of us won't 
sleep very well. I 'm rather excited myself, but I guess 
I 'm tired enough to sleep. I '11 write again when I get 
back to college. With bushels of love to all, 

Yours affectionately, Tom. 



III. THE " ARRIVAL. 

Jimpson sat on the ground, and watched 
with breathless interest two charging, tattered, 
writhing lines of men. Jimpson felt a good 
deal like an outcast, and looked like a North 
American Indian. Only legs and face were 
visible ; the rest of Jimpson was enveloped in 
a big gray blanket with barbaric red bor- 
ders. Some two dozen counterparts of Jimp- 
son sat or lay near by, stretching along the 
side-line in front of the Harvard section of the 
grand stand. Behind them a thousand enthu- 
siastic mortals were shouting paeans to the 
goddess of victory, and, unless that lady was 
deaf, she must have heard the paeans, however 
little she approved of them. The most popular 
one was sung to a well-known air. 

"As we 're strolling through Fifth Avenue 

With an independent air, 

The ladies turn and stare, 

The chappies shout, ' Ah, there ! ' 

And the population cries aloud, 
' Now, are n't they just the swellest crowd, 

The men that broke Old Eli at New Haven ! ' " 

And a mighty response swept across the field 
from where a bank of blue rose from the green 
of the field to the lighter blue of the sky. It 
was a martial air, with a prophecy of victory : 

" Shout aloud the battle-cry 

Of Yale, Yale, Yale ! 
Wave her standard far and high 

For Yale, Yale, Yale ! 
See the foe retreat before us, 
Sons of Eli, shout the chorus, 

Yale, Yale, Yale, Yale, Yale ! " 

Harvard and Yale were doing battle once 
more, and thirty thousand people were looking 
on. The score-board announced : Harvard, 4 ; 
Yale, o. Yale's ball. 15 minutes to play. 



The story of twenty minutes of the first half 
is soon told. It had been Yale's kick-off. 
Haag had sent the ball down the field to Har- 
vard's 20-yard line, and Van Brandt had gath- 
ered it in his long arms, and, with Meredith 
ahead, had landed it back in the middle of the 
field. But the fourth down gave it to their op- 
ponents after a loss of two yards, and the pig- 
skin went down again to Harvard's territory, 
coming to a stop at the white line that marked 
thirty-five yards. Here Harvard's new half-back 
kick had been tried, and the ball went high in 
air, and the field went after it ; and when the 
Yale full-back got his hands on it, he was content 
with a bare five yards, and it was Yale's ball on 
her 40-yard line. Then happened a piece of ill 
luck for the wearers of the blue. On the 
second down, Kurtz fumbled the pass, the ball 
rolled toward Yale's goal, and Brattle broke 
through the opposing left-tackle and fell on it. 

And while a thunderous roar of joy floated 
across the field from the followers of the Crim- 
son, the teams lined up on Yale's thirty yards. 
Twice Meredith tried to go through between 
center and left guard, and a bare yard was the 
reward. Then Van Brandt had run back as 
for a kick ; the ball was snapped, passed to Sills, 
Harvard's right half-back, and, with it safely 
under his arm, he had skirted the Yale left, and 
fallen and wriggled and squirmed across the 
goal-line for the first touch-down. 

Then ensued five minutes of bedlam, and 
after the victorious seats had settled into excited 
complacency, Van Brandt had tried for goal. 
But success was too much to hope for, and 
the two teams trotted back to the middle of the 
field, with the score 4 to o. Then had the sons 
of Eli shown of what they were made, and in 
the next ten minutes the ball had progressed 
with fatal steadiness from the center of the field 
to the region of the Crimson's twenty yards. 
And now it was Yale's ball on the second down, 
and the silence was so intense that the sig- 
nal was heard as plainly by the watchers at the 
far end of the field as by the twenty-two stern- 
faced warriors who faced each other almost 
under the shadow of the goal-posts. 

" Twelve, six, twelve, fifty — two ! " 

And the backs, led by the guards, hurled their 
weight against Harvard's right tackle ; and 



THE "ARRIVAL OF TIMPSON. 




"JIMPSON ON THE SIDE-LINES FEI.T LIKE AN OUTCAST. AND LOOKED LIKE A NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN." 



when the ball was found, Baker held it within 
a few inches of the ic-yard line. 

The cheers of Yale had now grown continu- 
ous ; section after section passed the slogan 
along. The stand across the field looked to 
Jimpson like a field of waving blue gentians. 
On the Harvard seats the uproar was less 
intense, and seemed a trifle forced; and the 
men near by were breathing heavily, and 
restively creeping down the line. 

Again the lines were formed. Jimpson could 
see the tall form of the gallant Gates settle 
down into a hunchback, toad-like position to 
receive the coming onslaught. Billings, the 
right tackle, was evidently expecting another 
experience like the last. He looked nervous, 
and Gates turned his head and spoke to 



him under cover of the first numbers of the 
signal. 

The guards were back of the line again, and 
their elbows almost brushed as they stood be- 
tween the half-backs. Silence reigned. The 
referee skipped nimbly out of the way. 

" Seven, seventeen, eighty-one, thirty ! " 

Again the weakening tackle was thrust aside, 
and although the Crimson line held better, the 
ball was three yards nearer home when the 
whistle blew, and Billings, somewhat dazed, had 
to call for a short delay. 

" First down again," muttered a brawny sub 
at Jimpson's elbow. " Why does n't he take 
Billings out ? " 

Again the signal came. Again a jumbled 
mass of arms and legs for a moment hid the 



THE "ARRIVAL" OF JIMPSON. 



[Nov. 



result. Then the men on the stand overlooking 
the goal-line arose en masse, and a mighty cheer 
traveled up the field, growing in volume until 
Jimpson could not hear his own groans nor the 
loud groans of a big sub. Back of the line, and 
almost equidistant of the posts, lay the Yale 
full-back ; and the ball was held tightly to earth 
between outstretched hands. The prostrate 
players were slowly gaining their feet; but 
Billings and Sills lay where they had fallen. 
Then Brattle stepped toward the side-line, hold- 
ing up his hand. With a leap Jimpson was on 
his feet. But the big chap beside him had 
already pulled off his sweater, and now, tossing 
it into Jimpson's face, he sped gleefully toward 
the captain. 

Jimpson sat down again in deep disappoint- 
ment ; and a moment later, Billings, supported 
on either side, limped from the gridiron, amidst 
the cheers of the Harvard supporters. Sills 
was on his feet again, and the trainer was talk- 
ing to him. Jimpson could see the plucky fellow 
shaking his head. Then, after a moment of 
indecision, the trainer left him, the whistle 
sounded, the Crimson team lined up back of the 
line, and Kurtz was poising the ball for a try 
at goal. The result was scarcely in doubt, and 
the ball sailed cleanly between the posts, a good 
two feet above the cross-bar ; and the score- 
board said, " Harvard, 4 ; Yale, 6 " ; and there 
were three minutes more of the half. 

Back went the ball to the 55-yard line, and 
loud arose the cheers of the triumphant friends 
of Yale. Gates kicked off, and Warner sent the 
ball back again, with a gain of ten yards. Sills 
caught it and ran, but was downed well inside 
Harvard territory, and the half ended with the 
ball in Yale's hands. Jimpson seized his blanket, 
and trotted after the eleven to the quarters. 
He found Gates stripping for a rub-down. 

" Well, my lad," panted the latter "could you 
discern from where you were just what kind of 
a cyclone struck us ? " But Jimpson was too 
much interested for such levity. 

" Do you think I '11 get in this half, Gates ? " 

" Can't say. Take a look at Sills, and judge 
for yourself." 

That gentleman was having his lame back 
rubbed by a trainer, but he appeared to Jimp- 
son good for at least another quarter of an hour. 



It seemed but a moment after they had 
reached the rooms that the word of " Time 's 
up, fellows," was passed, and renewed cheering 
from without indorsed the fact. But a moment 
or two still remained, and that moment belonged 
to Brattle. He stood on a bench and addressed 
the hearers very quietly : 

" We 're going to kick, this half, fellows. I 
want every man to get down the field on the 
instant, without stopping to hold. 1 don't think 
they can keep us from scoring at least once 
more; but every man has got to work. When 
the time comes to put the ball over the line, 
I expect it to go over with a rush. Let every 
man play the best game he knows, but play 
together. Remember that lack of team work 
has often defeated Harvard. And now, fel- 
lows, three times three for Harvard ! " 

And what a yell that was ! Jimpson went 
purple in the face, and the head coach cheered 
his spectacles off. And then out they all went 
on a trot, big Gates doing a coltish hand-spring 
in mid-field, to the great delight of the Crimson's 
wearers. The college band played ; thirty 
thousand people said something all together; 
and then the great quadrangle was silent, the 
whistle piped merrily, and the ball soared into 
air again. 

Jimpson took up his position on the side-line 
once more, and watched with envious heart the 
lucky players. For the great, overwhelming 
desire of Jimpson's soul was to be out there 
on the torn turf, doing great deeds, and being 
trampled under foot. He watched the re- 
doubtable Sills as a cat watches a mouse. 
Every falter of that player brought fresh hope 
to Jimpson. He would have liked to rise 
and make an impassioned speech in the inter- 
ests of humanity, protesting against allowing a 
man in Sill's condition to remain in the game. 
Jimpson's heart revolted at the cruelty of it. 

Some such idea as this he had expressed to 
Gates, that morning; and the big center had 
giggled in deep amusement ; in fact he had re- 
fused to recognize the disinterested character 
of Jimpson's protest. 

"Don't you think," jimpson had pleaded, 
"that I might ask Brattle to give me a show 
in the second half? " 

" No, I don't," Gates had answered bluntly. 



THE "ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON. 




'FACES ALMOST STRANGE TO HIM WERE SMILING, AND THE CAPTAIN WAS HOLDING HIS HEAD." (SEE PAGE II.) 



" You 're an unknown quantity, my boy; as the 
Frenchies say, you have n't ' arrived.' For a 
player who has n't ' arrived ' to try to give the 
captain points would be shocking bad taste. 
That 's how it is. Sills is a good player. As 
long as he can hold his head up, he '11 be allowed 
to play. When he 's laid out, Brattle will give 
you a show. He can't help himself; you 're the 
only chap that he can trust in the position. 
And look here ; when that time comes, just you 
remember the signals, and keep your eyes on the 



ball. That 's all you '11 have to do. Don't take 
your eyes off the leather, even if the sky falls ! " 
Jimpson remembered the conversation, and 
thought ruefully that it was easy enough for a 
fellow who has everything that heart can desire 
to spout good advice to chaps on the side-lines. 
Perhaps if Gates were in his (Jimpson's) place 
he 'd not be any too patient himself. The score- 
board said fifteen minutes to play. Sills still held 
up his stubborn head, and Jimpson's chances 
grew dimmer and dimmer as moments sped. 



IO 



THE "ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON. 



[Nov. 



Harvard's kicking tactics had netted her long 
gains time and again, and twice had she reached 
Yale's io-yard line, only to be grimly held and 
hurled back. Yale, on the other hand, had only 
once reached scoring-distance of their oppo- 
nent's goal, and had been successfully held for 
downs. Veterans of the game declared enthu- 
siastically, between bets, that it was " the snap- 
piest game of the decade ! " and supporters of 
Harvard said among themselves that it was 
beautifully conducive to heart-disease. Per- 
haps never had the two colleges turned out 
teams so evenly balanced in both offense and 
defense. The bets had become " one to two 
that Harvard does n't score again." 

Harvard's quarter had given place to a sub- 
stitute, and her left guard had retired injured. 
Yale had fared no better, possibly worse, since 
her crack full-back had been forced to yield to 
a somewhat inferior sub. And now the hands 
on the score-board turned again, and only ten 
minutes remained. 

The ball was down near Harvard's 40-yard 
line, and when it was snapped back, Sills took it 
for a " round-the-end run." But Yale's big left 
half-back was waiting for him, and the two 
went to earth together near the side-line and 
almost at Jimpson's feet. And then it was that 
that youth's heart did queer feats inside him, 
and seemed trying to get out. For Sills lay 
awhile where he had fallen, and when he 
could walk the doctor had sent him from 
the field. Brattle beckoned to Jimpson. With 
trembling fingers Jimpson struggled with his 
sweater ; but had not a neighbor come to his 
assistance, he would never have wriggled out 
of it before the game was called. 

Brattle met him, and, laying an arm over his 
shoulder, walked him a few paces apart. Jimp- 
son's heart, which had become more normal 
in action, threatened another invasion of his 
throat, and he wondered if everybody was 
looking on. Then he stopped speculating, and 
listened to what the captain was saying. 

" We 've only eight minutes to play. The 
ball has got to go over, Jimpson. I 've seen you 
run, and I believe you can make it if you try. 
The ball is yours on the second down. Try 
the right end ; don't be afraid of swinging out 
into the field. Whatever you do, don't let go 



of the ball. If Turner puts you through the 
line, keep your head down, but jump high. 
Now, go in, lad, and let 's see what you can 
do." He gave Jimpson an encouraging slap 
on the back that almost precipitated that youth 
into the quarter, and Jimpson saw the broad 
backs before him settling down, and heard the 
labored breathing of the men. 

"Ninety-one, twenty-eight, seventy-three, sixty- 
four — six ! " 

Jimpson suddenly found himself pushing the 
left half-back against a surging wall of tattered 
blue. Then some one seized him about the 
waist, and he picked himself up from the 
ground eight feet away from the scene of 
battle. 

" That 's what comes of being so small and 
light," he growled to himself, as he trotted 
back. But the thirst of battle was in Jimpson's 
soul, and he marked the Yale end who had 
treated him so contemptuously. 

The try between right-tackle and end had 
netted a bare yard, and Jimpson tried to look 
self-possessed while his back was running with 
little chills and his throat was dry as dust. 
The next chance was his, and he waited the 
signal anxiously, to learn whether the pass was 
direct or double. The other half-back imper- 
ceptibly dropped back a foot. The quarter 
looked around. The lines swayed and heaved. 

" Twenty-seven, sixty-three, forty-Jive, seventy- 
two — Jive .' " 

Jimpson leaped forward; the left half-back 
darted across him, the quarter passed neatly, 
and, with the Harvard left- end beside him, he 
was sweeping down to the right and into the 
field. The Yale end went down before the 
mighty Cowper ; and Jimpson, sighting a clear 
space, sped through. He could feel the field 
trailing after him, and could hear the sounds of 
the falling men. Before him in the distance, a lit- 
tle to the left, came the Yale full-back. Almost 
upon him was the Yale left-half, looking big 
and ugly. But, with a final spurt, Van Zandt 
ran even, and gave the shoulder to the enemy ; 
and as they went clown together, Jimpson 
leaped free, and, running on, knew that at last 
he was left to shift for himself. Of the foes 
behind he had no fear ; of the full-back running 
cautiously down on him he feared everything. 



8.] 



THE "ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON. 



I I 



But he clutched the ball tighter, and raced on 
straight as an arrow toward the only player 
between him and the goal that loomed so far 
down the field. 

He heard now the mighty sound of voices 
cheering him on, saw without looking the 
crowded stands to the right ; and then some- 
thing whispered of danger from behind, and, 
scarcely daring to do so, lest he trip and fall, 
glanced hurriedly over his shoulder into the 
staring eyes of a runner. And now he could 
hear the other's short, labored gasps. Before 
him but a scant ten yards was the full-back. 
Jimpson's mind was made up on the instant. 
Easing his pace the least bit, he swung abruptly 
to the left. He well knew the risk he ran, but 
he judged himself capable of making up the 
lost ground. As he had thought, the pursuer 
was little expecting such a deliberate divergence 
from the course, and, as a result, he overran, 
and then turned clumsily, striking for a point 
between Jimpson and the left goal-post. The 
full-back had noted the change, of course, on 
the instant, and was now running for about the 
same intersecting point as the other. The 
three runners formed a triangle. For the mo- 
ment the pursuer was out of reckoning, and 
Jimpson could give all his skill to eluding the 
full-back, who faced him, ready for a tackle. 

And here Jimpson's lighter weight stood him 
in good stead. Clutching the ball tightly, he 
made a feint to the left, and then flung himself 
quickly to the right. As he did so he spun 
around. The full-back's hand reached his can- 
vas jacket, slipped, and found a slight hold upon 
his trousers; and Jimpson, scarcely recovered 
from his turn, fell on one knee, the full-back also 
falling in his effort to hold. At that moment 
the pursuer reached the spot, and sprang toward 
Jimpson. 

The shouts had ceased, and thirty thousand 
persons were holding their breath. The next 
moment a shout of triumph went up, and Jimp- 
son was speeding on toward the Yale goal. For 
as the last man had thrown himself forward, 
Jimpson had struggled to his feet, the full-back 
following, and the two Yale men had crashed 
together with a shock that left the full-back 
prostrate upon the turf. The other had re- 
gained himself quickly, and taken up the pursuit; 



but Jimpson was already almost ten yards to 
the good, and, although his breath was coming 
in short, painful gasps, and the white lines 
seemed rods apart, the goal became nearer and 
nearer. But the blue-stockinged runner was 
not done, and the cries of the crimson well- 
wishers were stilled as the little space between 
the two runners grew perceptibly less. 

Jimpson, with his eyes fixed in agony upon 
the last white line under the goal-posts, strug- 
gled on. One ankle had been wrenched in his 
rapid turn, and it pained frightfully as it took 
the ground. He could hear the steps of the 
pursuing foe almost at his heels, and, try as 
he might, he could not cover the ground any 
faster. His brain reeled, and he thought each 
moment that he must fall. 

But the thought of what that touch-down 
meant, and the recollection of the captain's 
words, nerved him afresh. The goal-line was 
plain before him now ; ten yards only remained. 
The air was filled with cheers; but to Jimpson 
everything save that little white line and the 
sound of the pounding steps behind him was 
obliterated. 

Success seemed assured, when a touch on his 
shoulder made the landscape reel before his 
eyes. It was not a clutch — just fingers grasp- 
ing at his smooth jacket, unable as yet to find a 
hold. 

The last white line but one passed halt- 
ingly, slowly, under his feet. The fingers trav- 
eled upward, and suddenly a firm grasp settled 
upon his shoulder. He tried to swing free, 
faltered, stumbled, recovered himself with a 
last supreme effort, and, holding the ball at 
arm's length, threw himself forward, face down. 
And as the enemy crashed upon him, Jimpson 
tried hard to gasp "Down!" but found he 
could n't, and then — did n't care at all. 

When he came to he found a crowd of players 
about him. Faces almost strange to him were 
smiling, and the captain was holding his head. 
His right foot pained frantically, and the doctor 
and rubbers were busy over him. 

" Was it — was it over ? " he asked weakly. 

" Easy, old chap — with an inch to spare," 
replied the lips above. " Listen ! " 

Jimpson tried to raise his head, but it felt so 
funny that he gave up the effort. But, despite 



12 



THE "ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON. 



the woolen sweater bunched up for a pillow, he 
heard a deep roar that sounded like the breakers 
on the beach at home. Then he smiled, and 
fainted once more. 

But the score-board had changed its figures 
again : Harvard, 8 ; Yale, 6. Touch-down. 
Harvard's ball. 3 minutes to play. 

And the deep, exultant roar went on, resolv- 
ing itself into " H-a-r-vard ! H-a-r-vard ! " 

The band was playing " Washington Post." 
Harvard Square was bright under a lurid glow 
of red fire. Cheering humanity was packed 
tight from the street to the balustrade of Mat- 
thews, and from there up and across the yard. 
Cannon crackers punctuated the blare of noise 
with sharp detonations. The college was out 
in full force to welcome home the football 
heroes, and staid and prim old Cambridge lent 
her quota to the throng. From the back of 
Gray's the cheering grew louder, and the crowd 
surged toward the avenue. The band broke 
ranks and skeltered after. A four-horse 
barge drew up slowly at the curb, and, one 
after another, the men dropped out, tightly 
clutching their bags, and strove to slip away 
through the throng. But each was eventu- 
ally captured, his luggage confiscated, and 
himself raised to the shoulders of riotous ad- 
mirers. When all were out and up, the band 



started the strains of " Fair Harvard," and 
thousands of voices joined in. The procession 
moved. Jimpson, proud and happy and some- 
what embarrassed, was well up in the line. 
When the corner was turned and the yard 
reached the roar increased in volume. Cheers 
for the eleven, for Harvard, for Brattle, were 
filling the air. And then suddenly Jimpson's 
heart leaped at sound of his own name from 
thousands of throats. 

" Now, fellows, three long Harvards, and 
three times three for Jimpson ! " In the roar 
that followed Jimpson addressed his bearers. 

" Won't you please let me go now ? I — 
I 'm not feeling very well, and — and I 'm 
only a sub, you know." 

The plea of illness moved his captors, and 
Jimpson was dropped to earth, and his valise 
restored. There was no notice taken of him as 
he slipped stealthfully through the outskirts of 
the throng, and as he reached the corner of 
Holden Chapel he paused and listened. 

To the dark heavens arose a prolonged, im- 
patient demand from thousands of Harvard 
throats. The listener heard, and then fled to- 
ward the dark building across the street, and, 
reaching his room, locked the door behind him. 
But still he could hear the cries, loudly and im- 
patiently repeated : " We — want — Jimp-son! 
We — want — Jimp-son ! Jimp-son ! " 




WE WANT JIMP -SON! 



MARGARET CLYDE'S EXTRA. 



By Isabel Gordon Curtis. 



It was becoming dark and still in the com- 
posing-room of the " Riverpoint Gazette." 
One compositor after another had put on his 
hat and coat, turned out the electric light over 
his case, and gone home. Nobody was left in 
the long room but Phillips, the foreman, and 
Margaret Clyde. He was an elderly man 
with a pleasant face and gray hair. Margaret 
was sixteen — a slim, fair girl, whose sweet ex- 
pression and quiet manners made her liked in 
an office where all but herself were men. She 
and Phillips were usually the last to leave 
the composing-room. He stayed to see that 
everything was right, and Margaret waited to 
walk home with him. They lived a mile away, 
in adjacent streets and it was generally three 
in the morning before the last form went 
downstairs. 

"Ready, Margaret?" he called pleasantly, 
through the darkness. 

She had been washing her hands at the sink, 
but she came slowly down the room to where 
he stood. 

" I 'm not going home this morning," she 
answered hesitatingly. 

" Bless me! — why? " he asked in surprise. 

" I 'm going to Lancaster on the five-thirty 
train, and mother thought I might as well stay 
here until train-time ; it 's so much nearer the 
station." 

" Oh, that 's it, is it? " said Phillips, cheerily. 
" Will you be back before night? " 

" Yes ; I 'm coming home on the four o'clock 
train," she answered. 

'•' Well, that 's all right. You need a holi- 
day, I guess." 

" It is n't a holiday, exactly," she explained. 
" My uncle lives there, and he — wants to 
see me." 

Margaret was intensely honest, and she felt 
as if she was deceiving Phillips. 

" Anyway, a day's change won't hurt you. 



I 'm going now. Won't you be afraid to stay 
here alone for two hours? " 

" Oh, no, sir," said Margaret ; " I '11 lock the 
door, and the pressmen are downstairs, you 
know." 

"Well, good morning"; and Phillips left, 
shutting the door that led out into the street. 




"through the glass she saw the dim figure of a boy 
in a blue messenger uniform." (see page 15.) 

Margaret went to get her lunch-box and a 
glass of water. She made a tidy, paper-cov- 
ered table of the proof-reader's desk, and un- 
folded the New York evening paper that 
Phillips always saved for her to take home. It 
was dated " May 6, 1898," and Margaret read 
in a large scare-head on the front page : " Still 
no Word from Dewey." 

Riverpoint is a mere spot on the American 
map, a city of forty thousand people ; but just 



14 



MARGARET CLYDE S EXTRA. 



[Nov. 



at that time it shared in no small measure the 
anxiety that thrilled the whole continent. A 
captain of one of the ships in Dewey's fleet 
called Riverpoint his home. He was a much- 




" SHE HAD LEARNED TO SET TYPE WITH WONDERFUL 
DEFTNESS." 

beloved citizen, and his wife and family lived 
there. Among his crew were seven boys from 
Riverpoint. One was Lieutenant Warde, a 
popular young fellow ; the others were seamen, 
who had mothers, fathers, wives, sisters, 
brothers, and children there. The news had 
come of the great battle at Manila, but the 
townspeople waited for the death-list ; and there 
were men and women in Riverpoint whose 
faces grew careworn with dread. 

Every day, Margaret saw some one tap at 
the door of the editor's room. He was a man 
whom everybody loved and trusted. Women 
came to him whose sons and husbands were 
in Dewey's fleet. They had grown to distrust 
the bulletins, but they relied implicitly in Edi- 
tor Schell's knowledge of the situation. He 



was never too busy to talk to them. Mar- 
garet had often seen him turn from a laborious 
editorial to greet them, to assure them in his 
hearty, cheering way that " no news was good 
news, and when it did come it would be the 
best." But even his face began to grow grave 
when people talked of Manila. Lieutenant 
Warde seemed almost like one of his own 
sons ; he had grown up with his boys ; and as 
the week wore on he grew restless and looked 
anxious. Margaret had watched him that 
night while she was straightening up her case. 
She had finished the last revise, and the last 
form had gone to press. Boyne, the telegraph 
operator, sat by his instruments, and Editor 
Schell leaned over him. 

" No news," said Boyne, reluctantly. " They 
don't believe there will be anything now before 
noon." 

"Dear me! this is growing almost unbeara- 
ble," said Mr. Schell. " I '11 wait fifteen min- 
utes longer before you say ' Good night.' " 

Once in a while he came to the door of the 
editorial room to glance out at Boyne. He sat 
impassively by the instrument, returning its oc- 
casional " tap, tap, tap " ; but he scarcely looked 
up. Once he shook his head, and Mr. Schell 
returned to his desk without a word. At three 
they turned out the lights. Boyne said " Good 
night" to the other end of the line, and then 
they went out together into the darkness. 

Margaret read column after column of the 
news from Cuba, Key West, and Washington. 
It seemed to her as if she had read it all before, 
and she put away the paper while she ate her 
meager luncheon. Then she tidied up the 
desk, and laid her head on her arms. She was 
growing drowsy. She wondered if she could 
take a short nap. Her train would not leave 
for an hour and a half yet. It was growing 
lonely in the deserted composing-room. 

She woke up suddenly, thoroughly dazed for 
a moment. She imagined she had heard a 
noise. The presses were still rumbling down- 
stairs, and the gray dawn was stealing hazily 
into corners of the composing-room. It was 
five by the large clock. The noise came again. 
Somebody was beating and shaking the outside 
door. Margaret was frightened, and for a mo- 
ment she turned to run to the press-room. 



MARGARET CLYDE S EXTRA. 



The noise grew louder. It was an impatient, 
determined pounding, first of hands, then feet. 
She flew to the door. Through the glass she 
saw the dim figure of a boy in a blue mes- 
senger uniform. He thrust a yellow envelope 
into her hand, cried excitedly, " News from 
Manila!" turned to mount his wheel, then dis- 
appeared down the dim street. 

Margaret felt stunned. She knew some- 
thing ought to be done, but what? It was so 
far to Phillips's home ; Mr. Schell lived in a 
suburb three miles from the 
office ; and there was nobody 
in the press-room who could 
set type. She wished the boy 
had not left so quickly. 

Margaret hurried to the 
proof-reader's desk, where an 
electric light glowed. She tore 
the yellow envelope open, and 
read the fifty or sixty words on 
the thin sheet of paper. 

" All well at Manila. Not an 
American lost." She felt as if 
Dewey had sent her the mes- 
sage direct, and an excited 
"Oh!" echoed through the 
empty room. What was she to 
do? Margaret glanced at the 
clock. It was five minutes past 
five. Time was precious, and 
she felt she must do something. 
A few days ago she had worked 
on an extra. Some important 
news had come in when Phillips 
and she were alone. She had 
helped him to set the story in 
large type, and stood by while 
he fitted it in the upper part of 
the front page. There were 
a few exciting minutes, and 
Margaret had worked breath- 
lessly. Phillips said some kind 
words afterward about her ef- 
ficiency, and it had made her 
happy for all day long. 

She flew to the case where 
the large block letters were kept 
that had adorned the first pages 
of the " Gazette " recentlv. She 



was working as if life depended upon her move- 
ments. She had learned to set type with won- 
derful deftness during two years' work, and in 
ten minutes she was standing over the words 
that later that morning sent a wave of relief 
and thankfulness through America. She hurried 
down to the press-room. The regular edition 
was nearly ready. The men were running off 
the last thousand, and the nimble folder stood 
beside, gathering the papers into bundles. 
Pomeroy, the foreman of the press-room, 




MAHGAKET RACED AFTER THE CAR. CALLING OUT, 'NEWS FROM MANILA 
PLEASE TAKE ME ON.' " (SEE PAGE 17.) 



i6 



MARGARET CLYDE S EXTRA. 



[Nov. 




''TO SHOW YOU HOW TRULY THE "GAZETTE" APPRECIATES YOUR WORK I AM ASKED TO GIVE YOU THIS 
ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS,' SAID THE EDITOR." (SEE PAGE ig.) 



looked up in mild surprise when Margaret 
dashed in. 

" Well! — what are you doing here? " 

"Come," she cried excitedly, "come up- 
stairs with me at once." 

"The place is n't on fire, is it?" he asked 
half seriously. 

" No ; it 's the news from Dewey," she an- 
swered hurriedly. 

" Here, Thompson," he shouted to a man at 
another machine, " I must go upstairs a mo- 
ment — you take my place." 

He followed Margaret up the steep stairs to 
the table where a crleam of light fell on a half 



form of large type, headed by block letters. He 

read the type almost at a glance : 

Dewey is All Right! 

Revenue-Cutter " McCulloch " at Hong-Kong. 

300 Spanish Killed and 400 Wounded. 

Not an American Killed, but 6 Slightly 

Wounded. 

Entire Spanish Fleet Destroyed! 

New York, May 7. The " " in an extra edi- 
tion just published, prints the following special de- 
spatch from Hong-Kong: " I have just arrived here on 
the United States revenue-cutter McCulloch with report 
of the American triumph at Manila. The entire Span- 
ish fleet of eleven vessels was destroyed. Three hundred 
Spanish were killed, and four hundred wounded. Our 
loss was none killed, but six were slightly wounded. 
Not one of the American ships was injured." 



MARGARET CLYDE S EXTRA. 



17 



He grew wildly excited, and a shout rang 
through the deserted building. There was not 
a man in the " Gazette " office more patriotic or 
better posted on the war situation than the fore- 
man of the press-room, — he had spent his youth 
in the navy during the Civil War, — and his 
shout of triumph was heard downstairs above 
the din of the rumbling press. 

" Who set this up? " he asked, and he looked 
curiously at Margaret. 

" I did." 

" All alone? " 

"Yes." 

"When did the despatch come? " 

"Fifteen minutes ago," she said, with a 
glance at the clock. 

"Well, you 're a brick, and a girl at that!" 
he cried. " But we 've got to rush this out " ; 
and hurrying to the tube, he shouted : " Hey, 
Bill! — don't let that stereotyper go!" 

Margaret helped him while he divided the 
first page of the morning paper and filled in 
the upper part with Dewey's memorable 
message. She followed him downstairs, and 
listened to the cheers from the grimy men by 
the presses when he told the news. In less 
than ten minutes the second edition was being 
thrown from the press and eagerly gathered 
up by the men, who realized what glad news 
this would bring to Riverpoint. 

"Three cheers for Dewey!" cried Thomp- 
son, excitedly. 

The presses rumbled on, and, mingled with 
their din, rose hearty applause for the hero of 
the Pacific. Pomeroy turned and laid his 
blackened hand on Margaret's fair head. 

" And now, boys," he said, " three cheers 
for Margaret Clyde. It is n't every girl of 
sixteen that could have done this sort of job in 
fifteen minutes. She did n't lose her head for 
one second, and I 've an idea we '11 beat the 
' Times ' on this story." 

There were other cheers, almost as loud and 
hearty as those for Dewey ; and Margaret 
leaned against the stairs, frightened and crying. 

"There, there; no tears!" cried Pomeroy's 
deep voice. " You 're a fine, brave little 
worker. If I had a girl who had done the work 
you have this morning, I should be proud of 
her. Now," he added, putting half a dozen 

Vol. XXVI.— 3. 



" Gazettes " in her arms, " none of us can leave 
yet, so get on your hat and go to Mr. Schell's. 
This news will be especially welcome to him." 

Margaret hurried upstairs ; then Pomeroy 
guided her past the dozen frantic newsboys 
who had heard of Dewey's despatch and were 
struggling to get papers. 

" You skip down to the corner of Exchange 
Street," said the pressman, " and catch the five- 
forty car to Oakwood. They may refuse to 
take you, as it carries only the men to Smith and 
Twitchell's ; but you wave one of these papers 
to the conductor, and he will take you to 
Schell's, I '11 warrant." 

Margaret ran down the street breathlessly. 
The car was coming. It rushed past her. The 
conductor shook his head, but she raced after 
it, calling out: "News from Manila! Please 
take me on." 

The car stopped. The crowd of men inside 
had heard her, and were pushing anxiously to 
the door. She divided some papers among 
them, and a hearty shout went up from all. 

"Where do you want to go?" asked the 
conductor, kindly, when the noise had subsided. 

"To Mr. Schell's, at Oakwood. He is 
editor of the ' Gazette,' and he has not heard 
the news yet." 

" He '11 he mighty glad," said the conductor. 
" Here, men, give this little lady a seat." 

They rose almost in a body, and Margaret 
took the corner by the door, while the men 
set their dinner-pails back on the floor, and 
renewed their eager discussion of the news. 

Margaret was glad to rest. She hugged 
the precious extra under her arm, while she 
thought of the excitement of the half-hour 
since she had waked from her nap at the proof- 
reader's desk. Then, suddenly, she remem- 
bered that the train to Lancaster had gone, 
and her heart sank. Three days ago her Uncle 
Keith had written to say that Margaret might 
have a place on the " Lancaster Star," and earn 
eight dollars a week. There had been a long 
debate at home over the news. Margaret had 
shed a few tears at the thought of leaving the 
"Gazette." Phillips had got her in there. 
He had always taken an interest in her, and 
had taught her all she knew. She was only 
fourteen when she began, and she had learned 



MARGARET CLYDE S EXTRA. 



[Nov. 



the work quickly. But they could not afford 
to pay her more than six dollars a week now, 
and money was needed sorely at home. She 
had planned to go to Lancaster and decide 
about the work offered her there, then return 
and give the " Gazette" a week's notice. But 
the place would not be kept for her later 
than Saturday. There was not another train 
until too late, and she thought sadly of her 
mother's disappointment. 

" Here 's Mr. SchelFs house," cried the 
conductor. 

Margaret walked up to the porticoed door be- 
tween green lawns and tall forest trees. She 
rang the bell three times before a sleepy-eyed 
maid came to the door. 

" Here is a paper for Mr. Schell," said 
Margaret. 

" Mr. Schell is never to be waked till twelve 
o'clock," the maid answered crossly. 

" It is news from Manila." 

" Oh, well, I '11 tell Mrs. Schell " ; and the 
maid shut the great door with a bang. 

Margaret sat down on the steps to wait for 
the car. It probably would not return for a 
half-hour, but she did not mind waiting ; it was 
lovely and green here in the country, and a 
pleasant change from the stuffy upstairs tene- 
ment she called home. They had had a pretty 
little cottage on a pleasant street before her 
father died ; but now, even with her mother 
going out to sew, and with her wages, it was 
not easy to make both ends meet, the three 
younger children had so many wants. 

She was sitting with her elbows on her knees 
and her face in her hands, watching a black- 
bird bathing at the fountain, when she heard 
the door open. Mrs. Schell stood there ask- 
ing her to come in. Margaret rose slowly. 
She had a real awe of the editor's beautiful 
wife. She had often seen her in the office. 
She wore exquisite gowns, drove about in a 
carriage, and had everything, Margaret fan- 
cied, that heart could wish for. 

" My husband will be down in a minute," she 
said kindly. " Robina should not have left 
you on the piazza. It was very welcome news 
you brought us. How did you come here ? " 

Margaret was telling her of the ride when 
Mr. Schell entered. 



"Bless me! was it you who brought the 

news, little girl? " he said cordially. " Well, it 

.was good of you. Helen, please tell Robina 

to hurry with breakfast. I 'm going to the 

telephone." 

Margaret sat in the cozy library, while Mr. 
Schell was spreading the news. 

"Poor Mrs. Warde!" he said, smiling at 
Margaret, as he waited for an answer to his 
third call. "The news you brought has made 
her happy. She had n't heard it before. 

" Hello, there! Who is it? Pomeroy? 
Well, tell Phillips to speak to me. 

"Phillips is n't there? Where did he go? 

"Why, who got out the extra? 

"Margaret? What, Margaret Clyde? 
Well, good-by." 

He crossed the room to where the little girl 
sat, and he stood looking down at her with a 
genial smile. His wife stood beside him. 

" So you are the heroine of this ' beat '? " he 
said quietly. 

Margaret's face flushed and the long lashes 
drooped over her gray eyes. She felt bewil- 
dered. She had not thought she was doing 
anything wonderful. She rose from her chair, 
when Mr. Schell shook hands with her in his 
hearty way. His wife bent down and kissed 
her. It was almost too much for the little girl, 
and the tears dimmed her eyes. 

" Did you do it all alone? " the editor asked 
gravely. "Tell me about it." 

She clasped Mrs. SchelFs hand tightly, and in 
a low voice she told the story. 

"When did the extra go on the streets?" 
asked Mr. Schell. 

"At five-forty, sir. The boys were taking it 
just as I left." 

" Why did n't you call me up over the 
telephone when the despatch came?" 

" Oh, sir," — and Margaret clasped her hands 
together tightly, — "I forgot all about the tele- 
phone. All I thought of was just how to get a 
paper on the street as soon as possible." 

" Upon my word," — and Mr. SchelFs smile 
deepened into a laugh, — " you have the making 
of a great editor in you, and that is what you 
will be some day, or I am mistaken. Now you 
must stay to breakfast with us. I want to ask 
you more about this morning's work. Then 



MARGARET CLYDE S EXTRA. 



*9 



you will drive into town with me, for I shall 
have to go to the office before eight." 

Margaret followed them shyly to the bright 
dining-room. The breakfast-table was very 
different from the one at home. It gleamed 
with silver and cut glass ; golden daffodils were 
shadowed in a mirror centerpiece ; and the de- 
licious breakfast made the little girl hungry. 

" By the way," said Mr. Schell, as he carved 
a juicy steak, " how did you happen to be at 
the office at five o'clock?" 

Margaret's face flushed, and she stammered 
something about an early train. 

"Never mind," he said cordially; "it does 
not matter. It was a lucky thing for us, 
though, that you were there." 

Margaret's conscience was troubling her. 
She felt she had not been true to the em- 
ployers who had given her the first chance and 
treated her kindly for two years. She plucked 
up courage, and told the whole story of the 
position offered her in Lancaster ; of how she 
wished to help her mother ; of the children to 
be clothed, fed, and educated. She told it with 
the serious gravity of a little mother. 

Mrs. Schell looked up quickly at her hus- 
band. She was generous and impulsive, and 
the sweet-faced child had already found a 
warm place in her heart. 

" I 'm glad you did n't go," said Mr. Schell, 
emphatically. "We cannot spare you yet." 

Margaret felt very happy when the editor 
showed her into the beautiful carriage, and his 
wife kissed her good-by, adding cordially that 
some day soon she would drive into town and 
bring the younger children home with her for 
a day at Oakwood. Everywhere, during their 
ride through the green country roads, Mr. Schell 
shouted greetings to passers-by, and each one 
had some enthusiastic word to say about 
Dewey and Manila. They stopped on Ex- 
change Street to speak to Mayor Hurd. 

" I want to congratulate you, Schell," cried 
the mayor, " as well as Dewey. I was up 
early, and got the news at six. The ' Times ' is 
just getting on the street. It was a great beat." 

" Here 's the little girl who did it, mayor," 
he said gravely,— " Miss Margaret Clyde"; 
and he told the story in a few words. 



The mayor took off his hat and bowed to 
Margaret as courteously as she had seen him 
bow to Mrs. Philip Sutherland, the leader of 
Riverpoint society. 

It was a happy girl Mr. Schell left at Rid 
Street, and it took Margaret an hour to tell the 
mother why she did not go to Lancaster. 

When Margaret went to the " Gazette " office '' 
at four o'clock, everybody had something pleas- 
ant to say to her. As she came from the 
dressing-room in her black apron and sleeves, 
she gave a cry of delight, for her case was cov- 
ered entirely with red roses — fragrant, fresh, 
lovely blossoms, such as she had often gazed 
at longingly in front of the florist's window. 
There was a card beside them, and in Mr. 
Phillips's writing she read : " From the com- 
posing-room, in honor of Margaret's extra." 

She laid her hot face in the blossoms, when a 
cheer rang through the room. The flowers 
were so cool and delicious and beautiful, and 
she was so happy! 

" Mr. Schell wants you," said Mr. Phillips. 

She lingered by the door of the editorial 
room irresolutely. Her heart was beating, and 
she felt as if her voice had gone. Mr. Schell 
rose and led her into his office. Three gentle- 
men sat there whom Margaret had heard the 
men speak of as " stockholders." Each shook 
hands with her and said kind words ; then she 
heard Mr. Schell speaking to her. 

" I have sent for you, Margaret," he said, 
" to tell you how thoroughly we appreciate 
what one little girl did for us this morning. 
We sold thousands of papers before any other 
paper had brought the news to Riverpoint. 
It was a beat we shall always be proud of. 
You did the right thing at the right moment. 
To show how we appreciate your work, I am 
asked to give you one hundred dollars." 

He laid a small chain purse in Margaret's 
hand. She could see the gleam of gold 
through its meshes. " And I have also ordered 
Mr. Phillips to pay you hereafter ten dollars 
a week. He tells me you are a steady, excel- 
lent worker, so we cannot spare you to Lan- 
caster. What, crying? Bless me! that will 
never do. Why, we are as proud of you as 
we are of Dewey himself!" 



Chapter I. 

After many troubles, and having been sev- 
eral times on the verge of ruin, the colony of 
Virginia appeared, in the beginning of March, 
1622, to have surmounted its difficulties, and to 
be on a fair way toward prosperity. In 1 609 the 
number of colonists had been reduced to sixty, 
and these were on the point of embarking for 
Newfoundland when Lord Delaware arrived 
with supplies and more emigrants. In 161 1 
fresh arrivals, including a large number of wo- 
men as well as men, raised the number to 700, 
and the colony then advanced rapidly in pros- 
perity. 

Friendly relations had been maintained with 
the Indians, this being due chiefly to the mar- 
riage of John Rolfe and Pocahontas, the daugh- 
ter of Powhatan, the most powerful chief in 
Virginia. This chief died in 1618, and was 
succeeded by his younger brother. 

The settlements of the colonists were scat- 
tered over a wide extent of country on both 
sides of the James River. The largest of these 
villages consisted of wooden huts raised round 
a large and substantial building, the abode of 
Mr. Reginald Neville, who had been one of the 
settlers that had come out in 1607. He brought 
with him in a craft of sixty tons that he chartered 
for the purpose, fifteen farm-laborers and their 
wives, together with implements of husbandry 
and a store of commodities likely to be pleasing 
to the natives. 

Neville, a gentleman of much resolution 
and energy, had emigrated in consequence of a 
quarrel that had taken place between himself 
and one of the Scotch noblemen who had come 
to England with James I. In spite of the lack 
of success that attended the previous expedi- 
tions, he believed that there was a great future 
for those who were early in the field in the 
colony ; and the fact that those who had been 



taken out by Grenville, in 1585, had, after great 
hardships, been brought back to England by Sir 
Francis Drake; that fifty taken out the follow- 
ing year by Grenville all perished; and that 
of a hundred and fifteen others left there the 
following year no trace whatever could be 
found in 1590, in no way shook his belief 
in the future. Consequently, when he decided 
upon leaving England, he disposed of all his 
property, and joined the little party who went 
out in 1607 under the auspices of the London 
Company. 

It was not long before he separated himself 
from the others. They were persons of very 
different rank and quality, quarrels frequently 
sprung up among them, and all would have 
perished had not one of their number, John 
Smith, a man of great energy, assumed the 
direction of their affairs. Reginald Neville 
saw at once that if success was to be obtained, 
it was only to be found by separating himself 
entirely from these people. And accordingly 
he journeyed with his own party some fifty 
miles south of the James River, — or, as it was 
then called, the Powhatan, — and purchased 
from the chief of that name a tract of ground, 
in exchange for the clothes, axes, and other 
articles he had brought out for that purpose. 

The plantation, called Cumberland by its 
owner, in remembrance of his native country, 
stood within a mile or two of the site now 
occupied by Cumberland Court-house, a name 
familiar to the world from its associations with 
the Civil War. The river near which it stood, 
and which served as their highway to James- 
town, was the Appomattox. Here he had lived 
undisturbed and unmolested during the various 
troubles between the colonists and the Indians. 

He had, two or three months before leaving 
England, lost his wife; and it was this, as much 
as anything else, that had induced him to 
break up his home and adventure into a far 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



21 



country. He had brought with him his child 
who was less than a year old. The baby was 
tended by the woman who had been his nurse. 
She had just married one of the young men 
whom Mr. Neville took out with him. 

Mr. Neville's life at the little colony that he 
had founded was a quiet and peaceful one. The 
men he had brought with him were all married ; 
he had picked his men judiciously; and none of 
them had ever sought to leave him, the troubles 
and misadventures of the main body of colo- 
nists plainly enough showing them that they 
were far better off with their master than they 
would be were they to embark in affairs on 
their own account. 

The government of Reginald Neville was 
patriarchal in its character. Each couple had 
their own dwelling, and a portion of ground 
that they could till on their own account, hav- 
ing one day's liberty in each week for the pur- 
pose. All were fed from a common store, and 
provided with all that was necessary. He had 
brought with him several pigs and some poul- 
try ; they had greatly increased in numbers, and 
now provided no small portion of the meat for 
the general consumption. Game was abundant 
in the forests, and could be obtained from the 
Indians for a few beads, a small mirror, or 
other trifles. The men raised in the fields an 
abundance of grain for their wants, and the 
surplus could always be exchanged with the 
Indians. The principal crop, however, after it 
had been discovered that the soil and climate 
were suitable for it, was tobacco, which was 
sent to England as opportunity offered, and 
fetched good prices, since, in spite of the op- 
position of the king, it was rapidly growing in 
favor there. 

The women aided in the lighter field work, 
and in the gathering in and curing of the leaves; 
they spun and wove the linen, the flax being 
grown for the purpose on the plantation. All 
wore soft leathern garments, purchased from 
the Indians, who were highly skilled in the 
preparation of the skins of the animals the 
men killed in the chase. 

Besides superintending the general work of 
the little colony, Reginald Neville devoted 
himself to the education and training of his son. 

"It is well, Guy," he said to the lad, who 



was extremely fond of outdoor exercise, and 
was skilful in the use of the bow, and of the 
harquebus, and the pistol, " that you should 
learn many things that do not appear of much 
use here; for as the colony fills with new- 
comers, many of our own degree will come out 
to make their home here, and you would blush 
to find that you could not make a good figure 
among them. Moreover, it is possible that the 
Indians may become alarmed at the increase in 
our numbers, and may make common cause 
against us; so, as has happened before, we 
may be attacked in such numbers that we can- 
not make head against them. Those, then, 
who could do so would have to return to 
England, or go to the colony farther north, or 
to the island of Newfoundland; and if you 
could not hold your own as an English gentle- 
man, capable of serving in our army or of 
holding an appointment in the colonies, things 
might go hard with you. Moreover, it be- 
hooves one of good blood always to bear in 
mind that wherever he may be, or in whatever 
circumstances, he is yet an English gentleman, 
and must bear himself in all ways as worthy 
of that rank." 

In 1620 Mr. Neville, having been down to 
Jamestown with the boats laden with the last 
crop of tobacco, returned, bringing with him, 
to the astonishment of Guy, a negro lad some 
eighteen years of age. 

" I have bought him," his father said. " A 
Dutch ship-of-war had sailed in just before I 
arrived there, and had landed twenty of these 
blacks, whom they offered for sale. As you 
know, I do not approve of selling human beings 
like cattle, and have always refused to buy any 
of those sent out, for various offenses committed 
at home, to be sold here for service. This case 
is different. This lad has doubtless been either 
sold by his countrymen or kidnapped by the 
Dutch; and, were he free, could do naught here 
but work in the fields for his living, with, per- 
haps, some rough master, who might cruelly ill- 
use him. Assuredly he will not be misused here. 
Doubtless he will soon learn to speak our lan- 
guage, and I intend him to be an indoor ser- 
vant in place of John Davis, who is now old 
enough to be put to field work. I intend him, 
also, to be specially your own attendant when 



22 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Nov. 



you go abroad. You are getting to be adven- 
turous, Guy, and several times have caused me 
uneasiness by being so long away in the woods. 
I know that you have picked up a good deal 
of Indian woodcraft from young Ponta, the 
chief's son ; but many things might happen 
which would render it advisable that you should 
have some one with you. You might get 
mauled by one of these great cats in the forest, 
or you might be tripped up by a trailing plant 
or a projecting root of a tree, and break or 
sprain a limb, and might die before you could 
be found. The young fellow looks good-tem- 
pered and intelligent. When I bought him, a 
week ago, he had a sullen, hopeless look ; but 
when he saw that I meant kindly to him, and 
when by signs I assured him that he would be 
well treated, he speedily plucked up heart. With- 
out being ordered, he aided with the boat as soon 
as we started. He had evidently never taken 
hold of an oar before ; but he fell into it rapidly, 
and did fully his share of work as we came up 
the stream, and when we landed at night, he 
tried in every way to make himself helpful to 
me. I think that we shall find him very useful." 

" He is very ugly, father. I never saw any 
one with a black face like that," Guy said. 

" I have seen them at home, Guy. They 
have been brought home by Bristol ships that 
trade along the African coast, and they are, I 
am told, to be met with in Egypt, and are found 
rowing in the Moorish galleys. It seems that 
all Africa, save the northern coast, is peopled 
by men of this color, and many of them have 
been bought by merchants from the Moors, 
and are held in esteem as servants in Venetian, 
Genoese, and Spanish families." 

The negro more than justified Master Neville's 
prediction. He very speedily picked up a 
knowledge of English, and performed all his 
household duties with a quickness and alacrity 
that contrasted very favorably with the slower 
movements of the boys who had hitherto, one 
after another, assisted Jane Harris in the duties 
of the house. Jane herself lived with her 
husband and family in a house of their own 
hard by. She came in to cook, and her two 
eldest girls assisted her in the general arrange- 
ments. It was evident, however, that, although 
willing and eager to do any work allotted to 



him, Shanti — for such, they made out, was his 
name — was never so happy as when he accom- 
panied Guy upon his rambles in the forest. 

He soon showed that in his native country 
he had been accustomed to the chase, for the 
first day he was out he manufactured a rough 
bow and arrows ; and although this bore no com- 
parison, as a weapon, with the English longbow 
that Guy carried, Shanti was able at a short dis- 
tance to bring down a bird with unerring aim. 
Guy's bow was a source of much astonishment to 
the negro. Although firearms were fast super- 
seding the bow in England, the latter was still 
largely used as a pastime, and on every village 
green shooting was regularly practised. Guy, 
who had been taught to draw a tiny bow at the 
age of five, could now draw one of almost full 
strength, to the astonishment of the young 
negro; for, although more than four years his 
senior, and a powerful young fellow, he found 
that he could scarce bend the bow that Guy 
could without effort draw to the ear. 

A few days after his arrival, Guy took Shanti 
down to the stream, where, in the hollow of a 
fallen trunk, lay a small birch-bark canoe that 
Ponta had made for Guy. Shanti gave a cry 
of surprise and delight as he drew it out, and 
expressed in unmistakable gestures his ad- 
miration at the lightness and make ; and Guy 
gathered that, although accustomed to canoes 
of some sort in his own land, Shanti had never 
seen anything approaching this in lightness and 
skilful manufacture. Kneeling down beside it, 
he examined it most minutely, inspecting every 
fastening, and touching with extreme care and 
gentleness the fragile covering. He drew back 
as Guy lifted the boat and placed it in the 
water, being evidently afraid of injuring it by 
his touch. 

He stood by and watched how Guy seated 
himself, or rather knelt, in it, and then, on Guy's 
nodding to him, took up the other paddle, and 
as carefully took his place. When Guy began 
to use his paddle, Shanti dipped his own very 
cautiously in the water, being apparently doubt- 
ful whether in so frail a construction it would 
be safe to use his strength; but after a few 
strokes, finding that all was well, he began to 
work hard, uttering two or three wild cries of 
satisfaction ; and Guy was astonished at the 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



23 



speed with which the canoe flew along, its 
speed being even greater than when the young 
redskin chief had rowed with him. 

Chapter II. 

Two years had passed, and Guy was now 
nearly sixteen ; and although Shanti still per- 
formed general work in the house ' whenever 
Guy was there, Shanti was his inseparable com- 
panion at other times, and, with good food and 
kind treatment, had developed into a powerful 
young man. On his expeditions he still carried 
a bow and arrows, although he had learned to 
handle harquebus and pistol. He did not take 
to the sword, but greatly preferred a heavy 
ax, which he always wore in his belt, and 
which in his hands seemed a most formidable 
weapon. It had, indeed, proved so; for 
on one occasion, they came suddenly upon a 
great panther engaged in devouring a deer that 
it had killed. It turned suddenly, on hearing 
their footsteps, and, without a moment's hesita- 
tion, sprung at Guy. Taken wholly by surprise, 
the latter, in endeavoring to evade the spring 
tripped and fell ; the animal passed harm- 
lessly over him, and was in the act of turning to 
seize him, when Shanti's ax fell with such tre- 
mendous force, just behind the head, that it 
almost severed the spine, and the great cat fell 
over dead without a struggle. On hearing what 
had happened, Reginald Neville had at once 
drawn up a paper giving the black his freedom. 
At first the latter absolutely refused to accept it. 

" Shanti no wish to be free," he said. " What 
he do widout a massa to take care ob him ? " 

" You would stay with us just the same, 
Shanti, but you would be paid wages, like other 
free men." 

" What Shanti want wid wages, massa ? He 
got clothes, he got food, he got eberyt'ink dat 
he wants. Shanti have no use for money." 

" Yes, you have all that," his master agreed ; 
"but I should not like the man who saved 
my son's life to remain a slave ; therefore, if 
only to please me, you must take this paper. 
It need make no difference to you. Put it 
away somewhere where you can find it if you 
need it. Everything can go on just the same 
as before. My son will value your services 



even more than ever. He has long regarded 
you as a friend rather than as a slave ; but for 
him also it would be pleasanter to feel that 
your services are rendered from affection, and 
not as a duty." 

" Bery well, sar; me take de paper and hide 
him away; den it can't do any harm. Shanti 
gib his life willingly for young massa, just the 
same as if you write no paper," he replied. 

One day, in the middle of March, 1622, 
Ponta, who had not visited the settlement for 
some time, met Guy as he was about starting — 
for once unaccompanied by Shanti — to look at 
a party who were at work planting freshly 
turned up soil with tobacco. Ponta came and 
stood by Guy without speaking. 

" Why, Ponta," the lad said in the Indian 
language, which he and his father had both 
come to speak fairly, " 't is fully three mocms 
since you were here last ! " 

The young chief took the hand Guy held 
out to him. 

" Ponta could not come before," said he. 
" He has made a long journey. It was at sun- 
rise yesterday that he left his village to hunt 
the deer, as he said. None know that he has 
come hither. He has been with his father at 
the village of the great chief, Powhatan's bro- 
ther. He is not like his brother, who was 
friends with the English after one of them had 
married his daughter, Pocahontas." 

" He has always appeared very friendly," 
Guy said. " My father visited him but three 
months ago, with the usual presents, and he 
received him as warmly as usual." 

" Wise man has two faces," the Indian said. 
"Things have changed in the four years since 
Powhatan died. Many ships come up river, 
all full of white men and women, and their 
houses are scattered all over the land where 
the Indians have hunted ever since they came 
into the land, so far back as their traditions 
tell them ; and the Indians see that if this goes 
on their land will all have passed into the 
hands of the white strangers. There is much 
talk about it among the chiefs; and even my 
father, though always friendly with the wise 
sachem, your father, who has been true to his 
word and just in his dealings, is troubled in his 
mind, and his face has become dark toward 



24 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Nov. 



the whites, I am but a young chief, and am 
not invited to the great councils of our tribes, 
and know nothing for certain as to what is said 
there; for the warriors are silent if I approach 
one of the fires, and I feel that they doubt me ; 
for it is known that I have been much here, 
and am a friend to you and your father. How- 
ever, I fear that there is danger, and have come 
to warn you. I know not what is the danger, 
but I fear that there is trouble at hand." 

" I thank you deeply, Ponta, for coming to 
warn us; but I trust that, although they may 
feel uneasy at the number of new settlers, there 
is no real animosity on the part of your people 
against us. We see no difference in the be- 
havior of those who come here. It was but 
yesterday that a party arrived with some deer 
that they had slain. They were as friendly as 
usual, and departed exceedingly well pleased 
with the goods they received in exchange." 

" An Indian is not like a rattlesnake," Ponta 
said shortly. " He does not make a noise to 
warn an enemy when he is going to strike. I 
have no more to say. I have told you all I 
know. There is danger. When it will come, 
or how, I know not. But it will come; and 
not upon this place only, for all know that your 
father has always been just and honorable, and 
none bear him ill will personally; the danger 
is a general one, and threatens all the whites 
in our land. When one sees a dark cloud one 
can tell that a storm is coming, but none can 
say where the bolts of the great Manito will 
fall, or whom they will strike." 

" Will you not come in and have a meal 
before you start back again ? " Guy urged, as 
the Indian held out his hand. 

He shook his head. " I killed a deer yester- 
day," he said, " and have some venison still 
in my hunting-bag. I have a long journey 
back, and may lose time; for I must, when I 
enter camp again to-morrow morning, have the" 
haunches of at least a couple of deer to show 
that I have been hunting. Besides, were I 
to stay even for a short time, some of my coun- 
trymen might arrive ; and were these to report 
that they saw me here, it might be suspected 
that I had come to warn you, and might cost 
me my life. Farewell. Tell your father what 
I have said. I know not what had best be 



done, but he is wise, and will decide for him- 
self. I can only say, danger threatens. More 
than that I know not." And he started at 
a rapid pace that showed how little the long 
journey that he had performed had affected his 
sinewy frame. 

" Back so soon, Guy ? " his father said, when 
his son entered the house. " I thought that 
you had gone to the new plantation." 

" I was on my way there, sir, when I met 
Ponta." 

" Why, where is he ? Why did you not 
bring him in ? " 

" I asked him in, but he would not come, 
sir." And Guy then related the conversation 
that he had just had. Master Neville was 
silent for a minute or two after he had finished. 

" It is a serious matter, Guy," he said, at 
last; "but I hope that the young chief's fears 
are unfounded. We have heard no whisper of 
trouble until now ; and had aught come to his 
ears, the governor would have sent round to 
all the outlying villages and plantations to 
warn us to be on our guard. I can well un- 
derstand that the arrival of so large a number 
of settlers as have come over in the last two 
years has caused uneasiness among the Indians. 
It is only natural that it should be so; and I 
regret to say that the behavior of many is by 
no means calculated to cause a continuance of 
the friendly relations we have had for the last 
fifteen years with the Indians. Instead of be- 
having as if, as is truly the case, they were set- 
tled upon ground rightfully belonging to the 
Indians, they bear themselves as if they were 
here by right of conquest, and treat the Indians 
as if they, instead of we, were interlopers. The 
friendship of Powhatan has been so valuable 
that men have forgotten what happened before, 
and that no less than five times the colony was 
destroyed, twice not a single survivor remaining 
to tell the tale. Since his death, his brother 
has given no cause for us to suppose that his 
feelings toward us differed from those of Pow- 
hatan. But it was the same thing before. 
The Indians appeared friendly enough, until 
they suddenly fell upon the colonists and slew 
them all." 

" Ponta seemed sincere," Guy said. 

" Although I in no way doubt that this 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



25 



friendly young chief has some cause for believ- 
ing that there is danger in the air, his news is 
not certain enough for us to relinquish all that 
we have done during the past fifteen years, and 
to leave our houses, our plantations, and all we 
possess to the mercy of the" first band of red- 
skins that come along," said Mr. Neville. " It will 
be well to take precautions. When they return 



shall henceforth carry arms when they go to 
their work. I will serve out among them the 
twenty harquebuses that I brought out with me, 
and at night four shall always be placed on 
watch. I will to-morrow morning send off a 
messenger to Jamestown to inform the gov- 
ernor that I have heard a report that there is 
a feeling of uneasiness among the natives, and 




I INTEND HIM TO BE SPECIALLY YOUK OWN ATTENDANT WHEN YOU GO ABROAD, SAID GUYS FATHER. 



from their work, this evening, I will summon all 
the hands together, and tell them that there is 
an unfriendly spirit abroad among the redskins, 
and until that abates it will be wise for us to 
be upon our guard. The women shall no 
longer go into the fields. We will connect the 
outside houses with palisading ; a party of men 
shall go into the wood the first thing to-morrow 
morning and fell trees for the purpose. All 
Vol. XXVI.— 4-5. 



that danger may come of it. I am afraid that 
such a warning, in the face of the apparent 
good will shown by them, will have but slight 
effect. Still, it may cause him to make further 
inquiries; and should any confirmation of it be 
obtained, he will doubtless send warning to all 
the outlying settlements. I have no fear that 
Jamestown and the other principal places will 
not be able to repulse any attack, but it will 



26 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Nov. 



go hard with the settlers scattered over hun- 
dreds of miles on each side of the river." 

For the next three or four days, the men, 
aided by the stronger boys, worked hard at 
raising a palisade connecting the outlying 
houses and buildings together. While so en^ 
gaged, Indians came and went, as usual, look- 
ing on with an air of surprise at the work that 
was being done. However, they asked no 
questions, and went off apparently well satisfied 
with their usual presents of tobacco, in addition 
to the goods exchanged for their fish or meat. 
In four days the work was complete, and the 
men went out, as before, to the fields, six of 
them always remaining behind to protect the 
village in case of a sudden assault. At night 
the guards were changed every few hours, Guy 
or his father going round several times to see 
that the sentries were watchful. 

The evening of the twenty-second of March 
was dark and threatening. 

" I think we shall have a storm, Guy," his 
father said, when, at ten o'clock, he returned 
from making his round. " There is scarcely a 
breath stirring." 

Guy went round at one o'clock. The night 
was intensely dark, save when flashes of light- 
ning beyond the hills lit up the scene momen- 
tarily, while the roll of thunder was almost un- 
broken. As his father would go out at three, 
Guy now turned in to sleep until daybreak. It 
seemed to him that he was no more than soundly 
asleep when he was roused by Shanti's voice. 

"Jump up, massa! De redskins are upon 
us ! " Shanti exclaimed. 

" Nonsense, Shanti. It is the roar of the 
thunder," Guy mumbled dreamily. 

" No, no, massa," Shanti said, shaking him. 
" Master Neville run off, and he shouted to 
Shanti to wake you and tell you dat de redskins 
are attacking, all round ! " 

Thoroughly awake now, Guy sprang up from 
his bed. He had lain down the night before 
partially dressed. 

" Put on doublet, Marse Guy. White shirt 
no good on dark night." 

Mechanically, Guy thrust his arms into his 
doublet, his feet into his shoes, buckled on his 
sword, caught up his harquebus, dropped his 
two heavy pistols into his pockets, and ran out. 



For a moment he was bewildered by the din. 
The storm was still at a distance ; but the air 
rang with shouts and yells, and the screams of 
women. Now and then a harquebus was fired; 
but from the sounds it was but too evident 
that the defense had already broken down. 
There was a tone of triumph in the Indian 
yells; flames were rising at two or three points; 
and there could be no doubt that the redskins 
had crawled up unseen, and that their presence 
had been unnoticed by the sentries until they 
were already pouring over the palisades and 
making their way into the houses. 

As he was still hesitating in which direction 
to run, he heard a stentorian shout in his 
father's voice : " To the house, every one of 
you ! We must fight it out there. The village 
is lost ! " 

Already, frightened women, carrying their 
children, were rushing toward the house. 

" See that all the shutters are closed and 
safely barred, Shanti ! I will stand here so 
that I can guard the door until the men arrive," 
cried Guy. 

The light of the flames brightened rapidly, and 
Guy could see the fugitives pouring out from 
every house, while at the end of the little street 
a few men gathered together were fighting des- 
perately against a crowd of dark figures, whose 
tomahawks now and then flashed in the light 
of the flames. 

Suddenly some Indians rushed out from 
between the houses, to cut off the retreat of 
the little party. Guy took a steady aim, and 
fired ; and a moment later Shanti's harquebus 
was discharged. Two of the Indians fell, and 
the rest turned to meet this new and unex- 
pected attack. 

" Here are your bow and arrows, massa. 
Shoot quicker with them. Gun too slow." 

Arrow after arrow was discharged with great 
rapidity, and Shanti's bow also twanged fast ; 
and the Indians, astonished at the deadly dis- 
charge of arrows, leaped back into shelter with 
much diminished numbers. Still facing the foe, 
Master Neville and his party retreated steadily. 
When they came within a short distance, Guy 
and the negro joined them. They had reloaded 
their harquebuses, cramming them to the muzzle 
with bullets, and the discharge effected such 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



27 










"GUY WAS ROUSED BY SHANTl's VOICE. 'JUMP UP, MASSA ! LIE REDSKINS ARE UPON US ! ' " 

terrible execution among the Indians that, for master shouted: and before the Indians had 
a moment, those able to do so ran back. again rallied, all were within the door, and the 

" Now is your time ! Into the house ! " the heavy oaken bars were up. 

( To be continued. ) 



A SMALL BOY'S PROBLEM. 



By Lilian Dealing. 



I wonder how I 'd like it, 
And I wonder who I 'd be, 

Supposing I was somebody else, 
And somebody else was me ! 



I wonder, I just wonder, 
What boy I 'd like to be — 

Supposing I did n't like him, 
When I found that he was me ! 



CATCHING A BROWNIE. 



By Helen M. Chase. 



I 'll tell you what I 'm going to do, as soon as ever I can ; 
You '11 be surprised, Aunt Sarah, when you see my brownie man! 
I 'm going to set a trap for one in the meadow near the brook ; 




"I 'm going to set a trap fob one. 



For Bobby says we 'd see them there, if we 
would only look. 

When everything is dark and still, and every 

one 's asleep, 
They play their games and do their work — 

oh, would n't I like to peep! 
And if I only catch one, I '11 play with him 

all day, 
And put him in a bird-cage, nights, so he 

won't run away. 



I hope the trap won't really hurt, to make him sore or lame, 
But if it pinched him just a mite, perhaps he 'd grow quite tame 




'HE MIGHT HAVE MY DOLLYS BED. 
28 



CATCHING A BROWNIE. 



2 9 



While he was getting better. He might have My brownie may eat his supper off my dolly's 

my dolly's bed ; china plate ; 

I 'd 'tend that she was traveling, and play But he could n't wear her dresses, for she is 

with him instead. slim and straight, 

I 'd give him all my candy, and the frosting While he '11 be plump, like Santa Claus ; but 

on my cake, her carriage he might use. 

And sometimes, on a pleasant day, a little 

walk we 'd take 
Together up to your house. Oh, would n't 

you like to see 
A real live brownie, who could run and play 

like me ? 



And do you s'pose the teacher 'd let me 

bring him into school ? 
I 'd tell him not to talk, you know, for 

that 's against the rule ; 
But would n't the scholars stare and laugh 

and turn around to see 
A really truly brownie sitting there upon my 

knee ! 
I 'd get a tiny little slate, and a pencil just 

so long, 
And he might do his 'rifmetic ; but of 

course he 'd do it wrong — 
For brownies that live in brownie-land don't 

have any lessons to do; 
Sometimes in school, Aunt Sarah, I wish 

that I was a brownie too ! 



And at recess the boys and girls would crowd 

around my seat. 
" Oh, where 'd you get him ? " the boys would 

say ; the girls, " Oh, is n't he sweet ? " 
And then they would begin to tease : " You 

may have these peppermint drops, 
If you '11 let me hold him a little while"; or, 

" You may have one of my tops 
To keep, if you '11 let me take him home a 

minute, to show the folks." 
I would n't really let 'em , but I know how 

they would coax ! — 
Only Myrtle, 'cause she 's my cousin, and How cute he '11 be, Aunt Sarah, with his cap 

Hattie, and maybe Roy, and pointed shoes! 

If he would be very careful —though I 'm And when I wheel him down the street, they '11 

'fraid to trust a boy. all come out to see. 




"1 'll put him in a bikd-cage, nights, so he won't 

RUN AWAY." 



3° 



CATCHING A BROWNIE. 



Good-by, Aunt Sarah ; where 's my hat ? No, I can't stay to tea ; 
For I must hurry 'cross lots, through the meadow path, and look 
For some of the brownies' footprints in the sand down by the brook. 




" I KNOW HOW THEY WOULD COAX." 



IN OUR LANE. 



There 's a little gray bird in the apple-tree, 
And every day, 
When I go to play, 
I stand for a minute to hear him sing, 
And I peek for the nest where the apples cling, 
And look for his home that he 's hid from me, 
Where the big red apples cling. 

And early, early, when daylight comes, 
I watch the sun- 
Flecks, one by one. 
I lie for a minute, and think how sweet 
It is to live in this little street, 
With a pretty bird to feed with crumbs, 
And a boy next door, and things to eat. 

Once mother said : " Who loves you true ? " 
I did n't say 
Just right away, 
But stood for a minute, then said : " Oh, yes ; 
The cunning little gray bird, I guess!" 
But I don't think mother meant that ; do you? 

Marie L. Van Vorst. 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



By E. H, House. 



Chapter I. 
Cleopatra's fishing-party. 

In the library of a fine old Boston mansion 
an elderly gentleman stood, surrounded by a 
group of boys and girls. All were in the live- 
liest spirits, except one lad who kept himself a 
little apart, and seemed unwilling to join in the 
general merriment. 

" Come, Harry," said the elderly gentleman, 
with a good-natured smile, " don't worry any 
longer. Let us have a jolly half-hour before 
dinner." 



" You would n't be jolly, Uncle Claxton," 
answered the disconsolate youngster, " if you 
had been left alone to write a stupid history 
composition while all the others went out sail- 
ing in the harbor." 

" Did they tell you to write a stupid one, 
Harry ? " asked Uncle Claxton. " Then no 
wonder you are blue." 

" Don't plague a fellow, uncle," Harry an- 
swered. " You know what I mean. All history 
is stupid. I hate it! " 

Harry Carey certainly had a boy's good 
reason to feel unhappy. His brothers and 




POMPEY AND CICERO IN THE APOLLO ROOM WITH LUCULLUS. 
31 




CLEOI'ATRA S FISHING-I'ARTY. MARK ANTONY CATCHES A SALTED FISH. 
(SEE "BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY," PAGE 34.) 



32 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



33 



sisters had just returned from what they called 
a fishing-party, — though, in fact, they had not 
created much havoc among the fish of Boston 
harbor, — to which they had been invited by 
their favorite uncle, Claxton Percy. This uncle 
was a famous sailor, and to join him on a boat- 
ing excursion was one of the greatest privileges 
the children ever enjoyed. But on the present 
occasion Master Harry had been compelled to 
stay at home. He was wofully behindhand 
with his lessons in history, and his school- 
teacher had ordered him to make up a heavy 
deficiency by writing a short account of the 
Roman conquest of Egypt. Having forgotten 
all about this task until almost the last hour, 
his mother had required him to give up his 
Saturday afternoon's sail, and to occupy himself 
with a study for which he certainly had no 
fondness. 

Uncle Claxton had pleaded earnestly for his 
nephew's release, but Mrs. Carey had thought it 
not wise to consent. 

" He has been careless too often," she said, 
" and his teacher is greatly dissatisfied. If you 
really wish to do him a good turn, Claxton, 
you will persuade him to work harder hereafter. 
All the children are anxious to please you, and 
your word would go farther with Harry than 
anybody else's in the world. It is only the 
history that he slights. In other studies he 
does well enough, but history has always been 
his bugbear." 

" I suppose he finds little in it to interest 
him," Uncle Claxton suggested. " The school 
histories are often too much condensed to cap- 
tivate a boy's imagination. They have to be, 
of course. Perhaps I might put a little gilding 
on the pill, by giving him an anecdote, now 
and then, after his own fancy. If he could be 
made to understand that history has its amus- 
ing features, he might think it less tiresome. 
What do you say ? " 

" It would be the greatest kindness," an- 
swered Mrs. Carey, " if you could overcome 
his dislike to it in any way. Will you try ? " 

" To be sure I will. We shall have plenty 
of chances between now and the holidays. 
I hope we soon shall have him in a better 
humor with the annals of the past." 

Mindful of his promise, the good-hearted 



uncle now sought to turn his dejected nephew's 
thoughts into the desired channel. 

" What do you mean, Harry, by hating his- 
tory ? " he demanded. " Do you hate the bat- 
tle of Bunker Hill?" 

" Of course not ! " Harry replied. 
" Well, that is history, if anything is." 
" It 's different, uncle ; I know all about 
Bunker Hill. Grandfather Child has told us 
just what his grandfather did in the battle ; and, 
besides, we have been there with you, ever so 
many times. But Egypt and the Romans — 
they are dreadful ; and even Bunker Hill 
does n't amount to much in a school-book." 

" I see," said Uncle Claxton. " You find 
the school-book dry, because it gives only out- 
lines. But by and by you will get the whole 
story in other books, and perhaps go to Egypt 
as you now go to Bunker Hill. You must have 
your outlines to start with, and then you can fill 
them out hereafter. There 's plenty of good 
' filling,' even now, in your father's library." 

" But I 've lost my fishing-party," cried 
Harry, still nursing his grievance. " I can't 
find anything in Egyptian history to make up 
for that." 

" How far have you gone, my boy ? 
" As far as Antony and Cleopatra. Antony 
was a great fighter, and he could beat old 
Brutus at declamation, any day; but I don't 
believe he knew anything about fishing." 

" Perhaps not," answered Uncle Claxton. 
" Cleopatra said the very same thing, when she 
went sailing with him in Alexandria harbor. 
She told him *— but I suppose it does n't interest 
you to hear what she told him." 

At this the other children broke into loud 
outcries : " Yes, it does, uncle ! " " Did she 
really say so ? " " How did it happen ? " " Oh, 
tell us ; do tell us ! " 

"No, no. Harry hates history. We must n't 
be hard on Harry." Uncle Claxton's eyes 
twinkled as he spoke. 

" Not your kind of history," said Harry, be- 
ginning to brighten a little ; " and not if it has 
fishing in it. Come, uncle, you might do some- 
thing for me, after what I have gone through 
this awful afternoon." 

Again the outcries were repeated, until Uncle 
Claxton gave signs of consenting. 



34 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Nov. 



" I '11 tell you, lads and lasses, if only to 
show you there are many delightful stories in 
history, if you choose to hunt for them. Do 
you suppose that people were always solemn 
and stately in ancient times ? " 

" N ot if they had to write compositions on 
Saturday afternoon," said Harry ; but his face 
was no longer a picture of misery, as he pressed 
forward with the others to hear the expected 
story. 

Uncle Claxton seated himself comfortably. 
" When Antony first went to Alexandria as a 
mighty general," he began, " Cleopatra thought 
it necessary to keep the conquering hero in 
good humor by offering him all sorts of diver- 
sions and pastimes, which he tried to repay as 
well as he could. One day he gave orders for 
a great fishing expedition, very much to Cleo- 
patra's delight, as fishing was one of the sports 
she excelled in. Antony was either unlucky or 
unskilful on this occasion, for he brought up 
nothing, while the Egyptian queen never dropped 
her line without catching a prize worthy of an 
expert. He was so disgusted at his failure that 
he tried to make matters look better by playing 
a trick on his companion. He secretly sent some 
divers down into the water, to fasten fish upon 
his hook, and then pulled them in with a fine 
show of triumph, calling everybody to observe 
how successful he was. Unfortunately for him, 
Cleopatra had observed more than he wished. 
She kept quiet, however, and pretended she had 
never seen so skilful a fisherman in her life. 
She said so much in Antony's praise, and held 
him up as such a master of the sport, that when 
she invited him to go out again the next day, he 
tried to excuse himself, fearing that he would 
certainly be detected. But she insisted, and 
he was obliged to take the risk, or confess that 
he was not so clever as he seemed." 

" He might have tried the same game once 
more," interposed Harry, who considered that 
the tale was for his especial benefit, and told 
particularly to him. 

" That is what he meant to do," continued 
Uncle Claxton, " but Cleopatra was too bright 
for him. She had a diver of her own on board, 
and sent him into the sea with a big salted fish, 
like those which are now sold in the market. 
This was hung upon Antony's hook, and as 



soon as he felt the weight, he began to dance 
about, crying that he had a bite before anybody 
else, and hauling in his line as proudly as if he 
had won a battle. You can imagine his dismay 
when the dead fish, split open and salted, 
bobbed out of the water, and all his followers 
shouted with laughter." 

" Good for Cleopatra ! " exclaimed Harry. 
" I 'd like to try that joke myself, the first time 
I get a chance." 

" How did Antony like it ? " asked Percy 
Carey, the oldest of the boys, and his uncle's 
namesake. 

" He did n't like it at all. He was red-hot 
with anger. But Cleopatra, who was always 
quick-witted, contrived to pacify him with com- 
pliments and flattery, saying that his strength 
was in capturing provinces, kingdoms, and 
cities, and that after winning all the glories of 
war he ought not to grudge a poor African 
queen her humble exploits with the hook and 
line. Then he forgave her, as he always did, 
no matter what trick she might play." 

" Is that story true, uncle ? " inquired Harry's 

youngest sister, Louise. 

. " As true as most history of the kind, my 

dear. Ancient writers believed it. There is 

no reason why it should not have taken place." 

" It shall take place again, if I can manage it 
any way," exclaimed Harry. " It can be done 
without a diver, and it is too good a trick not 
to be repeated." 

" I dare say it has been repeated often 
enough," said Uncle Claxton. " I know of 
one case in modern times, when another fa- 
mous man of the same name was the victim. 
It happened in California, not many years 
ago." 

" Who was it, uncle ? Tell us about it." 

"You might call him Marcus Duus, if you 
like. That is pretty fair Latin for the name he 
goes by, though it is n't his true name. His 
friends made fun of him, just as Madam Cleo- 
patra and her court made fun of the Roman 
warrior. But I shall not try to tell how it hap- 
pened. Our American Mark will perhaps do 
that himself some day, and I should make a poor 
figure spinning a yarn that belongs to him." 

" I know who he is," cried Percy. " Duus 
means ' two,' and two is the same as — " 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



35 



" Bravo, Percy ! " interrupted Uncle Claxton. 
" Nothing like being up to the mark in your 
dead languages. But I would n't say anything 
more, if I were you. Better wait till the great 
humorist is ready to talk about it on his own 
account." 

At this point little Dick Carey, the small- 
est of the nephews, drew attention to him- 
self by an unexpected but extremely practical 
question. 

" Did Antony and Cleopatra eat the salt 
fish?" he demanded — whereupon everybody 
burst out laughing. 

" You need not make fun of me," said the 
little fellow, defiantly ; " salt-fish dinner is the 
best in the world." 

" Right you are, Dicky," agreed his uncle. 
" Let us hope they had it served that very day." 

" If they did, they were luckier than we are," 
pursued Dicky. " I wonder why we never get 
one nowadays." 

" I might go down to Long Wharf and catch 
one in a shop," suggested Percy. " Perhaps 
mother would have it cooked for us." 

" Many persons have forgotten the old-fash- 
ioned salt-fish dinner," said Uncle Claxton, 
" but not I. Do you miss it, you young 
people ? " 

They missed it very much, they all declared. 

And well they might. Prepared according to 
the time-honored New England rule, it is a 
feast to treasure in memory. 

" Then you shall have one with me. When 
shall it be ? " 

A shower of thanks fell on Uncle Claxton ; 
for a visit to his house, apart from any question 
of dinner, was a delight nearly equal to a sail 
in the harbor. But as to when it should be, 
that was for him to say. 

" I mean," he explained, " how soon can I 
arrange it ? When I leave you this evening 
I go straight to the railway station, without 
returning home. I must be in New York to- 
morrow, and stay there four or five days. 
Listen to me, Percy. Will you remember to 
run out to Dorchester on Monday, and tell my 
man Jerry that you will dine with me next 
Friday? I can be back by that time." 

" Will I remember ? I should think I would, 
uncle. Is that all I shall say ? " 



" Say that five of my boys and girls are com- 
ing to early dinner on Friday. That 's enough." 

"But, uncle — the cook — " hinted little Dick, 
in a hesitating way. He was troubled lest 
the material of the banquet should be over- 
looked, yet timid about taking a liberty, even 
with his indulgent relative. 

" Yes, Dick ; the cook ? " 

" The salt fish, you know, uncle," Dick went 
on, looking knowing. 

" Do just what I told you, Percy," said Uncle 
Claxton, smiling benevolently. 

"Oh, Dick!" exclaimed the two girls of the 
party, in reproachful tones. 

Dick looked rather ashamed of his forward- 
ness, but all he did was to get close to his uncle 
and hug him around the knees. His father and 
mother came in at that moment, and the subject 
was not referred to again. What happened on 
the following Friday, and whether Dick had or 
had not cause for anxiety concerning the dish 
he longed for, shall be related in the next 
chapter. 

Chapter II. 

THE DINNER OF LUCULLUS. 

When Uncle Percy's juvenile guests arrived 
at his house, a little before the dinner-hour, they 
were surprised to find that he had not yet re- 
turned from New York. Some of the youngest 
among them were much disturbed by his ab- 
sence; but Percy, the oldest boy, was of stouter 
faith, and reminded them that their uncle had 
never been known to disappoint anybody, least 
of all his nephews and nieces. 

" Don't you remember," he said, " how uncle 
wrote us, last summer, when he was out West, 
that he would take us to the theater the next 
Thanksgiving afternoon ? We did not hear 
from him again for three months; but he came 
for us at half-past one, all the way from Cali- 
fornia, just as he had promised. What do you 
say to that ? " 

Before they could say anything a sound of 
wheels was heard outside, and looking out of 
the window, they saw their uncle spinning up 
the avenue in a buggy. 

" Ready for dinner ? " he cried, as he entered 
the hall door. " I am as hungry as a hunter. 



36 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Nov. 



Let me brush away the dust, and we '11 begin 
at once." 

It was not until fifteen minutes later, when 
a huge dish of salted cod appeared, followed 
by the proper assortment of potatoes, beets, 
and carrots, with the requisite accompaniment 
of melted butter and hard-boiled eggs, that the 
doubts by which Dicky Carey had been tor- 
mented throughout the week were entirely set 
at rest. Then he smiled contentedly, and re- 
marked : 

" It 's beautiful, Uncle Claxton, but I don't 
see how you did it." 

" Did what, Dick ? " 

" How you let your cook know what we were 
going to have," Dick answered. 

" Oh, that 's the puzzle," said Uncle Claxton. 
" Don't you think you can guess ? " 

" Perhaps you sent a letter." 

" No ; I have been too busy to write." 

" Telegraphed, then." 

" Try again, youngster." 

But neither Dick nor any of the others could 
explain the riddle. The only new suggestion 
came from Louise Carey, aged ten, who thought 
it might be magic. 

•' It is the simplest thing in the world," said 
Uncle Claxton. " If you were anywhere near 
as old as I am, you would not need to ask. 
Very few people hold to the custom now, but 
when I was a boy, half the families in Boston 
always had salt fish on Fridays. I have not 
given it up, that 's all; and whoever dines with 
me on Friday gets that dish, with apple dump- 
lings to follow." 

'• That is splendid ! " exclaimed Harry. 
" When I have a house of my own I will fix a 
different dinner for each day in the week, and 
astonish the folks I invite just as Uncle Claxton 
has astonished us." 

'• And ice-cream at least twice every week," 
added Percy, who was struck by the brilliant 
possibilities of the plan. "What a capital idea! 
I never thought of it before." 

" Plenty of other persons have," said his uncle. 
"It is n't a new notion, by any means. It has 
been done in more ways than you can count." 

" How do you mean, uncle ? " 

" Ask Harry ; he is the historian of the 
household," was the laughing reply. 



" Oh, uncle, I say ! " protested Harry. 

" Don't tease him," begged his elder sister, 
Amy. " He has been working ever so hard 
since he heard about Cleopatra's mischief." 

" Digging away like anything," added Percy. 

" Digging for antiquarian nuggets, I sup- 
pose," said Uncle Claxton. 

" Yes ; but I have n't found any yet," Harry 
replied, as if a little disappointed. 

" Take a turn at Lucullus, my lad, and you '11 
discover that he knew a trick about dinners 
worth two of mine." 

After this statement the young people made 
it plain that their uncle would have no peace 
until the curiosity he had excited was fully 
satisfied. 

" Let a starving man eat his meal first," he 
said, " and then you shall hear all about it." 

Uncle Claxton, did not make them wait long, 
and before the children had gone far with their 
first supply of the delectable salt-fish combina- 
tion he was ready with his tale. 

" You must understand," he began, " that 
Lucullus was very fond of fine dinners — more 
so than was good for him, in his later years. 
In early life he was one of the greatest of Ro- 
man generals, and at middle age he had king- 
doms at his feet. But, like many public men 
of that period, he was pursued by envious ene- 
mies, and instead of making a stand against 
them, he gave up all his glory, and devoted 
himself to idle luxury. Although he was enor- 
mously rich, he amazed his friends by the 
amount of money he spent in feasting them. 
No matter at what hour a visitor called, a 
costly banquet was always ready to be served. 
People who were intimate with him often tried 
to catch him unprepared ; but no one ever suc- 
ceeded. The most artful trap of all was set by 
Pompey and Cicero ; but Lucullus was too 
sharp, even for these able men." 

" Do you mean," asked Harry, his eyes 
round with astonishment, " do you mean the 
great Pompey and Cicero we hear so much 
about at school ? " 

" The very same ; those were the men. Did 
you think that Pompey was always fighting 
battles, and that Cicero did nothing but speak 
pieces in the Senate ? Oh, no. They used to 
vary those occupations by strolling about the 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



37 



Forum on pleasant afternoons, and one day 
they met Lucullus, strolling like themselves, 
and laid a plan to take him by surprise. They 
said they had a particular favor to ask. He 
promised to do anything in his power; and 
then they proposed to dine with him that very 
day, on condition that he should make no 
preparations and give no instructions, but let 
them share the ordinary meal intended for him- 
self. Lucullus had not expected this. Though 
he was extravagant enough, even when wholly- 
alone, he could not bear to entertain guests 
without a good deal of extra extravagance on 
their account. So he tried to make an ap- 
pointment for the next day ; but they would not 
listen to him. Then he wanted to call his ser- 
vants, and they objected to this also, suspect- 
ing that he might contrive to give some secret 
orders. They insisted that he should not open 
his lips to any one besides themselves, but just 
ramble around until dinner-time, and then take 
them directly to his dwelling. Here he made 
a stand. He protested, reasonably enough, 
that they demanded too much. He had left 
home without even saying that he should go 
back there to dine. At least his friends must 
allow him to announce that he would return at 
the customary hour; otherwise there might be 
no food provided at all. They saw no harm in 
this, and, after consulting together, agreed that 
he could send that one short message, and no- 
thing more ; but he must employ a stranger to 
do the errand, and must speak to him in their 
hearing, so that they could guard against any 
suspicious words or private signals. Lucullus 
pretended to be extremely troubled, and de- 
clared that they deserved nothing fit to eat ; 
nevertheless he consented, and, calling a public 
messenger, gave this direction : ' Go to my 
house, and tell the steward to serve dinner in 
the Apollo, as usual.' Pompey and Cicero 
were delighted. They kept close to their host 
through the rest of the day, feeling sure that, 
though they would have an excellent meal, 
they had prevented him, this time, from mak- 
ing one of the gorgeous displays in which he 
reveled. 

" When, at last, the three entered the dining- 
room, the sight of the table almost took away 
their breath. It was decorated with a magnifi- 



cence they had not dreamed of. But this was 
nothing to what followed. Course after course 
of the rarest food was set before them, with 
wines that were almost beyond price, until, at 
the end, they calculated that the cost of the 
repast could not have been less than a sum 
equal to ten thousand dollars in our money of 
to-day." 

" Why, that is a small fortune to spend for 
one dinner ! " exclaimed Percy. 

" You may say so, indeed. They were quite 
right in their reckoning. Lucullus had out- 
witted them, and carried his point, exactly as 
he wished." 

" How, uncle ? Tell us how ! " the children 
cried. 

" Think it out for yourselves," said Uncle 
Claxton. But the only attempt at a solution 
came from Dick, who, after pondering deeply, 
caused an outburst of mirth by remarking that 
perhaps it was Friday. Dick evidently imagined 
that the explanation which had cleared up the 
mystery of his uncle's dinner might be good 
enough for anything in ancient Rome. 

" No, no, Dicky," said Uncle Claxton; " that 's 
not the secret. You must remember the mes- 
sage which Lucullus sent to his steward — that 
he would ' dine in the Apollo.' He had several 
dining-halls, named after various Roman gods, 
and all differently arranged, for different kinds 
of feasts. He had only to mention which of 
these he would occupy to let his servants know 
what preparations were necessary, and precisely 
how much money should be spent. It was the 
rule that a dinner or supper in the Apollo 
should cost a sum equal to about ten thousand 
dollars of our American money, and it was at 
this rate that Pompey and Cicero were enter- 
tained. They did not learn till long after how 
Lucullus had managed the affair." 

"It seems monstrous," said Percy, "that so 
much should be paid for a single dinner." 

" So it does, my boy ; and when you consider 
that in those days money was worth ever so 
many times what it is now, and that a sum 
equal to ten thousand dollars in Rome was 
equal to perhaps twenty-five or thirty thousand 
in Boston, it looks all the worse. But that was 
the way of Lucullus. If he had given them 
only his ordinary dinner, I dare say they would 



38 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



have had more than a dozen hungry men could 
eat. He was excessively displeased, once when 
he was all by himself, because the servants set 
before him a comparatively simple meal. They 
excused themselves on the ground that there 
were no guests; but this did not help them. 
' Do you not know,' said their lordly master, 
' that Lucullus dines to-day with Lucullus ? ' 
From that time no attempts at economy were 
made in his mansion." 

" I have heard that speech quoted before," 
said Amy Carey ; " but I never knew where it 
came from, nor what it meant." 

" Are you sure you know now ? " Uncle 
Claxton inquired. " A great many people have 
found it hard to decide the question. Did he 
mean, ' I have come to-day to dine with Lu- 
cullus,' or ' Lucullus has come to-day to dine 
with me ' ? " 

" Does it make any difference which he 
meant ? " asked Percy. 

"Why, in one case he might mean that he, 
the owner of the house, had a distinguished 
guest, namely, Lucullus. In the other, that 
he, Lucullus, was the guest of the master of the 
house. Which was it, do you think ? " 

The point was altogether too fine for most of 
the young folks, and they stared at one another 
in silence, one or two thinking hard, some try- 
ing to think, and the youngest wondering what 
there was to think about. Before their reflec- 
tions had carried them very far, Uncle Clax- 
ton's voice was heard again. 

" Come, children," he called out. " Lucullus 
dines with Lucullus. Which was which, and 
who was who ? What do you say, Harry ? " 

" Uncle, to tell you the truth," Harry replied, 
" it has put my head in such a whirl that I 
have n't an idea left. Everything seems upside 
down." 

" Well, Percy, how do you decide it ? " 

" It depends upon when you ask me, uncle. 



At first I had it one way, and then the other. 
A minute ago I was quite determined, but 
now — I think I '11 give it up, if you please." 

" Come, Amy ; we must look to you." 

"I have made up my mind," said Amy; "but 
it is n't easy to tell. It must be either, ' I 
have invited Lucullus, and we should give him 
the best we have,' or, ' Lucullus has invited 
me, and so, for my sake, and perhaps for his 
credit, too, there ought to be a fine dinner.' " 

" Very good ; and then ? " 

" It seems more natural that Lucullus should 
mean he was receiving a visitor than that he 
himself was the visitor. But if I go over it too 
often I am afraid I shall be all mixed up, and 
not know what to say." 

Uncle Claxton nodded pleasantly. " I think 
you have it right, Amy. My idea is the same 
as yours. It is n't worth much study, anyway. 
I asked you only because it was a point that 
people used to debate ages ago, and argue 
about till they were tired. Considering that 
the ancients set up to be philosophers, they 
certainly occupied some of their time with queer 
discussions. What do you think of a dispute 
by learned scholars over this question : ' Did 
the chicken exist before the egg, or the egg be- 
fore the chicken ? ' " 

" Why," exclaimed Harry, " that 's what the 
fellows at school ask each other ! " 

" Very likely," said Uncle Claxton. " So 
they did when I went to school. But it was 
asked by grown-up men in Greece nearly two 
thousand years ago, and perhaps two thousand 
years before that. The Greeks were fond of 
that sort of amusement. But it is n't good 
enough for us. Here are our dumplings com- 
ing; let us make the best of them, without ask- 
ing antiquated conundrums, or even inquiring, 
as did King George III., how the apple got 
inside the crust. Dumplings are too good to 
need any verbal sauce of that kind." 



( To be continued. ) 



CHUGGINS, THE YOUNGEST HERO WITH THE ARMY. 

(A Tale of the Capture of Santiago.) 



By H. Irving Hancock. 







'YOU 'RE MR. ROOSEVELT, ARE N'T YOU?' CHUGGINS ASKED." (SEE PAGE 48.) 



The sun, beating fiercely in his face, caused 
him to open his big, round eyes. Chuggins 
was awake, though at first he did not realize 
where he was. 

Then it all came back to him. This land, 
with its dense forests of trees, unlike any he 



cocoanut palms and the giant palms, the mango- 
trees, and great tangled mazes of jungle all 
about — this land was Cuba. 

And Chuggins was there with the army. He 
had longed to come, and resolved to come, and 
had come. This little roly-poly youngster had 



had seen before, with the prickly cactus, the a long line of fighting ancestors. His father 



40 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



[Nov. 



had carried a musket through the Civil War ; 
his grandfather had fought in the War of 1812 ; 
his great-grandfather had served with Ethan 
Allen at Ticonderoga. With such an ancestry 
behind him, Chuggins had felt called upon to 
take part in the war for the liberation of 
Cuba ; and after surmounting untold difficulties, 
here he was ! 

How the name of " Chuggins " had come to 
him not even the little fellow himself remem- 
bered ; probably the boys had so nicknamed 
him, and the name had been popular because 




BRONZED OFFICER, PRESENTING A SPLENDID PICTURE OF MANHOOD, RODE 
ALONG ON A SPIRITED HORSE." (SEE PAGE 43.) 



it seemed to fit his round, stout little figure to 
a T. He was a Vermont boy, and had lived 
with an uncle and aunt in the southern part of 
the good old Green Mountain State. When war 
was declared, Chuggins, who knew and gloried 



in his ancestral history, decided that he must get 
to the front, somehow. 

His uncle and aunt laughed at him. They 
always laughed good-humoredly at these sud- 
denly conceived schemes of Chuggins — when 
they did n't scold him. 

" But I 've got to go," pleaded Chuggins. 
"There were three Sperrys before me .who 
fought in the service of their country, and 
of course I can't go back on a record like 
that." 

In an unthinking moment Uncle Nat gave his 
consent. He did n't 
mean it ; he did n't 
dreamthattheboy would 
go; but Chuggins never 
waited for the old man 
to change his mind. 
Setting out on foot, 
he tramped down into 
the western part of 
Massachusetts. There 
was a volunteer regi- 
ment, afterward fa- 
mous, being organ- 
ized there. By dint of 
persuasion, the little 
fellow got into the 
camp as chore-boy. 
By sheer hard work 
and unfailing good 
nature he kept his 
unpaid position with 
these soldiers. He 
went to Framingham 
with them, afterward 
to Lakeland, and then 
to Tampa, Florida. 

But here a great 
disappointment was 
in store for the boy. 
Colonel Clark flatly re- 
fused to take any 
small boy to Cuba with 
the regiment. 
" You had better go home," said the colonel, 
kindly. "If you have n't any money with you, 
we will manage in some way to raise a purse to 
pay your fare." 

In despair, Chuggins fled away from the regi- 



■] 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



41 



ment. Tramping over to Port Tampa, he also were sent ashore. From one of the great 
interviewed the steward of one of the great open ports forward a wide gang-plank ran down 
transport-ships lying in the canal there. Now until its edge touched the water. Blindfolded 
these ships,being under 
hire to the government, 
were all managed as 
cheaply as possible. It 
seemed to the steward 
that a good deal of 
work could be got out 
of this healthy-looking 
youngster. Chuggins 
was engaged to go to 
Cuba on the steam- 
ship, " for his keep." 
He was careful not to 
make any promises 
about coming back on 
the same conditions. 

For the first day or 
two after the boy left 
home little was thought 
of his disappearance. 
He was " an odd 
youngster, but would 
be back in a day or 
two." When this pre- 
diction failed, Uncle 
Nat bestirred himself, 
but in vain. He could 
gain no trace of his 
nephew's whereabouts. 
A day or two before 
the great troop-ship 
sailed out of Port 
Tampa,Chuggins wrote 
to his uncle and aunt, 
telling them what he 

had done, and where he was going, adding horses were led down this plank by means of a 
naively in a final paragraph : long halter made fast to the stern of a life-boat. 

" I thank you very much for letting me go to Once they were in the water, the horses had the 
the front." bandages taken from their eyes. They were 

So the boy had got as far as Daiquiri, where headed straight, and left to swim ashore. 
General Shafter debarked the most of the fine Chuggins stood watching this novel sight as 
army that he was to lead against Santiago, dark came on. 

Here a new complication arose. Ship's captain " I 'm just as good as any horse," he observed, 
and steward absolutely declined to let the young in confidence, to himself. 

helper go ashore. To a boy as determined as Having settled this point, he waited until it 
was Chuggins this refusal meant little. On was quite dark. Then, getting upon his hands 
the first day of the landing of troops, horses and knees, when no one was looking he crept 
Vol. XXVI.— 6-7. 




' REMEMBER THE 



(SEE PAGE 45.) 



42 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



[Nov. 



down the plank. Plash ! and he was in the 
water. He was quite at home there, too. 
Striking out lustily, he was soon ashore. 

Chuggins was on Cuban soil. He felt happy 
■■ — exultant. Soon after he began to feel scared. 
Suppose the ship's captain or steward should 
send ashore and capture him ? To be sure, he 
had not agreed to go back with the ship, but 
he had heard that shipping laws were queer 
things, designed principally for the oppression 
of seafaring workers. To render himself as 
secure as possible from the defeat of his plans, 
he went through two or three groves of trees 
before he settled upon a small clearing as his 
abiding-place for the night. 

It was here that the boy awoke, with a strange, 
startling sense of the newness of his surroundings. 
It soon wore off, however, for Chuggins was 
hungry. Through the trees he had a glimpse 
of the transports, riding at anchor in the open 
harbor of Daiquiri. That told him where the 
town was. 

He set out, walking briskly. Close into the 
town, he came upon a company of engineers 
preparing their breakfast of bacon, coffee, and 
hardtack. 

" Where do you get your food ? " the boy 
stopped long enough to ask. 

" Over at the commissary," replied one of the 
soldiers, pointing to where a great white tent 
stood, down near the pier. 

" Will they sell any there ? " 

" Civilian, ain't ye ? " queried the soldier. 

" Yes, sir." 

" Then I reckon they '11 sell ye some, if ye 're 
polite." 

Chuggins started on his way again, walking 
more swiftly than before, and keeping a tightly 
closed hand upon his whole stock of money — 
a quarter that he had earned back in Tampa. 

There was a swarm of busy men round the 
great commissary tent. Most of them were 
American soldiers, but there was a smattering 
of civilians, and, what interested Chuggins most 
of all for the moment, a number of ragged 
Cuban soldiers, who had been hired to pack 
provisions over the mountain trail to the soldiers 
of Uncle Sam, already pushing far up into the 
hills, where the Spaniards awaited them. 

Watching his chance, the boy made his way 



up to the counter, behind which two officers, a 
sergeant, and a number of civilian helpers were 
tremendously busy with apportioning out army 
rations, and checking them off. 

" Well, what do you want ? " demanded a 
sharp voice in Chuggins's ear. 

" If you please, can I buy something to eat 
here ? " asked the boy, holding up his only 
coin. 

" Where do you belong ? " 

" I came ashore from one of the ships," 
answered Chuggins, with evasive truthfulness. 

" Better get back there, then, where there 's 
plenty of food," replied the commissary ser- 
geant, gruffly. 

" But I 'm not going back," protested the 
boy, stoutly. " I 'm going to stay ashore ; and 
I 'd like to buy something, for I 'm hungry." 

" So 's the army," retorted the sergeant, as 
he began to check off the items on a list that 
he held in his hand. " How old are you ? " 

" Thirteen, sir." 

" Then you 'd better get back to your ship. 
It 's no place for you here on shore." 

" Can't I buy something to eat now ? I 'm 
desperately hungry." 

There was something so pleading in the 
youthful voice that the commissary sergeant 
softened sufficiently to reply, with gruff kind- 
liness : 

" I 'm sorry, my lad, but we 've orders not 
to issue an ounce of food to any one until we 've 
provided for the three regiments that are up in 
the hills without rations. Come back in three 
or four hours, and I '11 try to do something for 
you." 

Three or four hours ! That was a long time 
for a boy to wait who already felt woefully faint 
with hunger. But Chuggins felt that it was of 
no use to argue with the commissary sergeant. 
Turning away, he walked up the hill on which 
most of the houses of the town stood. Here 
he came upon a group of men who looked war- 
like enough. Most of them were dressed very 
much like soldiers, in brown canvas suits, and 
wore leggings, sombreros, cartridge-belts, and 
huge revolvers. Two or three of them carried 
repeating rifles, besides. These young men 
were bustling about. Chuggins knew two or 
three of them to be war correspondents for the 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



43 



newspapers; he had seen them in the camps 
at Tampa. It was natural enough, therefore, 
to conclude that they were all correspondents. 

One of them was bargaining with half a 
dozen ragged Cuban soldiers to bring a lot of 
baggage up from the pier. 

" I 'd like a chance at that work, sir," pro- 
posed Chuggins, thrusting himself forward. 

" You look strong enough," replied the cor- 
respondent whom he had addressed, looking 
down kindly at the little fellow. 

" Oh, I 'm strong enough, sir ; don't you be 
afraid about that." 

"Get to work, _ then, and when you 're 
through I '11 pay you half a dollar. " 

" Would you just as soon make it something 
to eat ? " 

" Hungry, eh ? " asked the correspondent. 

" Awfully ! " came the answer, with heartfelt 
force. 

"Get right to work, then, sonny; we '11 use 
you right." 

For almost an hour Chuggins toiled man- 
fully, packing valises, boxes, tent-rolls, and the 
many other articles of a well-equipped war cor- 
respondent's baggage. By the time that this 
was over breakfast was ready. Chuggins sat 
on the ground, just as his late employers did, 
and quickly disposed of a tin plate full of canned 
beans, fried bacon, and hardtack, washed 
down with coffee that had no milk or sugar 
in it. 

How good it tasted no one can imagine who 
was not there. And, in addition to the break- 
fast, Chuggins was made happy by the present 
of half a dollar, which he protested he had 
not earned, but which he was forced to accept. 

" Want a job to stay here in camp and help 
our cooks ? " asked the correspondent. 

" Very much obliged, but I 'm going to the 
front," replied Chuggins, shaking his head. 

" To the front ? What in the world are you 
going to do there ? " 

" I don't know, but I 'm going there. That 's 
where all the Sperrys were before me." 

The correspondent uttered a low whistle of 
surprise, but politely pointed out the trail over 
which the first troops had marched, and Chug- 
gins lost no time in getting upon that trail. 

Though he trudged along alone, there was 




CHUGGINS FILLING THE CANTEENS. 
(SEE PAGE 51.) 



no difficulty in keeping to the trail. Even had 
there been another road to confuse the traveler, 
it would have been easy enough to guess which 
was the right one. The soldiers had marked 
a trail plain enough for the " greenest " scout 

to follow. Here 
some discarded 
blouses hung 
upon a bush 
near the road. 
A little farther 
along, the thin 
bushes only half 
concealed the 
"roll," thrown 
away by an- 
other soldier. 
This roll con- 
tained, besides 
half a shelter- 
tent, a pair of 
blankets and a 
rubber poncho. 
It wastoo heavy 
for a soldier to carry under that broiling sun while 
tramping over the roughest kind of mountain 
roads. Still another soldier had found his leg- 
gings too hot and uncomfortable, and had 
thrown them aside at the first opportunity. 

Chuggins picked up the discarded leggings. 
They fitted fairly well. He already wore an 
army sombrero, given him by a soldier in 
Tampa, and now felt quite the soldier himself. 

" I 'd like to find a canteen with water in it," 
murmured the boy, who was now beginning to 
experience a lively thirst. But this he did not 
find. No matter how much soldiers throw 
away, they always keep their canteens in the 
tropics. 

It was a hard trudge through those Cuban 
hills. Every few minutes the boy found him- 
self compelled to sit in the roadside shade. 

He had gone perhaps five miles, and was 
resting once more, when a bronzed officer, a 
splendid picture of manhood, rode along on a 
spirited horse dripping with wet and foam. 

" Hello ! Which way are you headed ? " 
questioned the lieutenant, reining up short. 

Chuggins, without saying a word, pointed in 
the direction taken by the troops. 



44 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



[Nov. 



" Don't you try it," advised the officer. 
" There 's real fighting going on over there." 

" Which is just the reason I 'm going," mut- 
tered the boy with the trio of fighting ancestors, 
leaping to his feet as soon as the officer had 
ridden out of sight. 

The way no longer seemed long. He 
thought but little of' his thirst or of the heat. 
By the time that he had gone a mile farther on, 
he heard what sounded like a string of fire- 
crackers exploding. The farther he went, the 
louder the sounds became. At first he hardly 
thought of the noise, but at last he came to an 
abrupt halt. 

" Why, that 's firing ! " he exclaimed. " That 's 
the battle ! Oh, I hope our soldiers are just 
giving it to the Spaniards ! Gracious ! how 
loud the noise is now ! They 're firing so fast 
that 1 don't believe they 're stopping to breathe." 

Then a queer feeling came over Chuggins. 
It struck him in the region of the belt that he 
wore tightly strapped at the top of his trousers. 
It was a strange, uneasy feeling, not unlike the 
one he had felt on the voyage to Cuba when 
the water was rough. 

Men were being killed, on beyond. Others 
were being wounded, many of them horribly 
mangled. Chuggins had a vivid, awful recol- 
lection of the horrors of war as told by his 
father — tales to which the boy had listened 
with fascinated terror in years gone by, when 
that father was alive. Thinking of those awful 
tales now, Chuggins felt a strong desire to re- 
main right where he was — safe ! 

But there was fighting blood even in the 
youngest and latest of the Sperrys. Chuggins 
thought of the father who had gone off in '6i,- 
at the first call of President Lincoln ; he thought 
of what some Grand Army neighbors had said 
of the grit and endurance of Private Sperry in 
those far back days ; he remembered the picture 
of which he had always been so proud, which 
represented his father, at the age of nineteen, in 
the uniform of a Federal volunteer. 

Long before he stopped thinking of those 
matters, Chuggins was running — running right 
toward the noises that made him think so 
strongly of the racket of a Fourth of July at 
home. As he ran, a wave of disappointment 
swept over the boy. The firing had ceased. 



He did not realize this all at once; but when 
the truth came home to him that the battle 
must be over, he clenched his hands, while 
tears came into his eyes. 

" If I had n't loafed so along the road, I 'd 
have been there in time ! " he cried angrily. 

Still he kept on running. In time he came 
to a low, shaded road. There was a brook in 
his way, and, before fording the narrow stream, 
Chuggins bent over to gulp in a long drink of 
the warmish water. Then he got up on his 
feet again, and went forward, soon coming into 
the town of Siboney. There were hundreds of 
Cubans here, and an entire brigade of Uncle 
Sam's soldiers. 

" What happened ? " asked Chuggins, going 
up to the nearest soldier who looked good- 
natured. 

" Well, we chased the Spaniards out of the 
town," was the gleeful answer. 

" How many killed ? " questioned the boy, 
eagerly, yet with a misgiving. 

" Nary one." 

" Wounded ? " 

" Not an American soul. There were sixteen 
Cubans slightly hurt, though." 

There was plenty here to see, and Chuggins's 
eyes were busy. Some of the transports which 
had come down from Daiquiri were being un- 
loaded of troops. More than a dozen small 
boats plied constantly between ships and shore, 
coming in loaded as tightly as could be, going 
back empty, in tow of navy launches. There 
was a lighter moored as close to shore as it 
could be, and from this two small boats were 
used to transfer the lighter's cargo to the shore. 
Chuggins eyed this lighter with an interest born 
of experience. It was loaded down with com- 
missary supplies. Two or three hundred sol- 
diers were bathing in the surf at once, while, 
just back of the beach, others had found a fresh- 
water pool. Here, half stripped, many of the 
soldiers washed soiled articles of clothing. 
Others were roaming up the sides of the hills 
near by, peering into blockhouses and inspect- 
ing rifle-trenches abandoned by the enemy. 
Occasionally a captain or lieutenant would walk 
through the active groups of men, to say 
warningly : 

" Men, remember the advice of the medical 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



45 



department. In this unhealthy climate you are 
urged to make no unnecessary exertions in the 
middle of the day." 

But this advice was laughed at, for the most 
part — though the laughing was not done, you 
may be sure, until the officer had turned away. 
It was absurd to speak of Cuba's climate as un- 
healthy. It was not as hot as New York was 
in the summer. That was before our soldiers 
understood the climate. They knew more 
about it later. For the present, happy over their 
release from the crowded transport, they were 
inclined to play like youngsters on vacation. 

Up in the village of Siboney, where the track 
led by to the railroad roundhouse, there was 
more fun going on. Before the Spaniards left they 
had tried to disable the three engines there. 
There were mechanics in abundance among 
our men. A group of them had been at work 
for two hours to repair the smallest locomotive 
of all. It was soon in running order. 

" Wait a minute," sang out one of the sol- 
diers, coming forward with a bucket of red 
paint and a brush which he had found in the 
roundhouse. " There 's no name on the thing. 
It ought to have a name. Some one give me a 
name, and I '11 paint it on." 

" Shafter ! " cried a soldier. " Bates ! " 
shouted another. " Lawton ! " " Kent ! " 
Each suggester offered the name of his 
favorite general. 

" Hold on," objected the soldier with the 
brush. " I can't paint 'em all on. Decide 
on one name, boys, and I '11 paint her." 

There was another noisy discussion, which 
made the question seem as far from being set- 
tled as ever. Meanwhile, the man with the 
bucket and brush stood by, a look of comical 
despair on his face. Soon he espied Chuggins, 
lingering on the outskirts of the crowd. 

" See here, youngster," called the man with 
the brush, " what do you say ? " 

" How would ' Remember the Maine ' do ? " 
spoke up Chuggins, turning a little red, but 
speaking clearly. 

" Good enough ! " answered the man, dipping 
his brush at once into the bucket, while a cheer 
went up. Then the decorator stopped. 

" There is n't room enough for so long a name 
under the cab window," he remarked. 



" Why don't you paint it on the boiler ? " 
suggested Chuggins. 

" Good again ! " With a flourish, a large, 
red R was marked out on the boiler. There 
was a cheer, and another cheer for each letter 
that appeared — with such frantic cheering when 
the whole of the popular legend appeared that 
soldiers began to run over there from other parts 
of the village. 

" There 's no number on this engine, either," 
discovered the man with the brush. " She '11 
have to have a number, sure. I guess twenty- 
two is good enough for her." 

This sally brought a burst of applause, for 
the painter and his comrades grouped about 
belonged to the Twenty-second United States 
Infantry. 

" Where did you come from ? " Chuggins felt 
a hand upon his shoulder, while another hand, 
resting under his chin, turned his face upward. 
The boy found himself looking up into the 
grizzled, seamy face of a tall, erect sergeant 
who was old enough to be his father and have 
some years to spare. Chuggins felt, somehow, 
that that sergeant was a man to be trusted. 
Evidently the sergeant formed a similar opinion 
of the boy, for he spoke kindly when he asked: 

" You did n't run away from home to follow 
the army, did you ? " 

" My uncle said I could come," answered 
Chuggins. 

" What did you come for ? " 

" To see Uncle Sam's soldiers fight, of course," 
replied the boy, showing the surprise he felt 
that such a question should seem necessary. 

" Do you think this is just the place for a 
boy? " was the sergeant's next question. 

" For a boy whose father, grandfather, and 
great-grandfather all served their country in 
the army — yes, I do, sir. I don't believe 
there 's any other place for a boy to be who 
had folks like that." 

" Good ! " voiced the sergeant, with a flush 
in his own manly face. " Come over here 
under the tree, where it 's shady. I want to 
talk with you." 

And talk they did for some minutes, Chug- 
gins telling his story truthfully. 

" I 've got to go over and inspect the com- 
pany quarters," said the sergeant, finally, after 



46 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



[Nov. 



consulting a little silver watch that he carried 
inside his flannel shirt. " Sperry, I don't know 
just what to say to you, except that I admire 
your grit from the ground up to the top of your 
head. I want to see you again. But look out 
for the provost guard. If they get you, you '11 
be hustled back aboard a ship." 

" Is there a provost here already ? " ques- 
tioned the boy. 

" Of course there is ; and they '11 pick you up 
quick, if your story does n't suit them." 

In camp, the provost officer and his men 
perform the same duties that are delegated to 
the police in civil life. 

" They '11 be round in a few minutes, too," 
added the sergeant, as he walked away. 

" I don't want them to send me back to any 
ship," thought the boy, with a thrill of alarm. 
He walked over to where a row of white- 
washed buildings stood, on the road that led up 
from the beach. They were deserted just now. 
Chuggins looked in two or three of them until he 
found one almost filled up with hay. It was 
dark in there, and looked like a good place to 
hide. Hardly pausing to think, the boy slipped 
in, and pulled the door shut. But soon his con- 
science began to hurt. 

" This is n't right," he muttered, with sturdy 
self-accusation. " It 's too much like hiding 
or running away, and I guess the Sperrys never 
did much of that." 

With a bound he reached the door, pulled it 
open, stepped outside, and slammed the door 
again, as if to put all temptation securely 
behind him. 

" There 's the provost guard up at the end of 
the street," hinted his friend, the sergeant, who 
happened to pass at that moment. 

"Thank you, sir," replied Chuggins; and 
then, so great was his dread of having his 
ambition frustrated that he sat down on the 
bench in front of the door to still the trembling 
of his legs. Away up the street he could make 
out an officer, a corporal, and eight men. 

" I 'd give five dollars for a square feed of 
hay for this poor brute of mine," said an officer 
riding by to another who walked beside him. 

" Done ! " cried Chuggins, leaping to his feet, 
with all the tremble gone out of his legs. 

" Don't mean to say you 've got a feed 



store ? " demanded the officer, reining up, and 
smiling quizzically at the boy. 

" Look in here," urged the boy, throwing 
open the door, upon seeing which the officer 
quickly dismounted and came up on the porch. 

" It is n't mine, you understand," went on 
Chuggins, quickly. " I only show it to you." 

" It 's Spanish hay, I guess," laughed the 
officer, " and belongs to whoever finds it." 

Drawing a camp-knife, he quickly severed 
the lashings of the bundle, picking up a liberal 
allowance of the hay, which he carried out and 
made fast to his saddle. 

" As to that five dollars — " 

" I don't want it," protested Chuggins. " Do 
me a favor, instead." 

" What favor ? " 

" Well, you see, sir, I 'm not attached. I 
want to attach myself somewhere. I can find 
my food, and look out for myself, and don't 
want pay; but I 'd like to be your striker." 

" Striker " is the army name for an officer's 
servant. 

" All right," laughed the officer, good-na- 
turedly. "You '11 find the work quite as light as 
the pay you propose. When you want any- 
thing, find Lieutenant John Hansel." 

" Thank you, sir " ; and as the officer rode 
away, Chuggins brought his hand up to an 
army salute. 

Then he sat down again, looking steadily out 
upon the sea, that was as blue as a turquoise, 
until tramp, tramp, tramp ! sounded near, and a 
sharp voice hailed : 

" Now, youngster, what are you doing here ? 
Run away from home, or bolted off a ship, eh ? 
I 've orders to round up all such as you." 

It was the provost officer, who had halted, 
with his corporal and eight men, just behind 
him. He glared sternly at the boy, sure that 
he had caught a scapegrace. 

But Chuggins, rising to his feet with a salute, 
replied : 

" No, sir; I 'ma striker to Lieutenant Hansel." 

" Don't believe it," was the curt reply of this 
semi-judicial officer. 

" I 'm sorry you don't, sir, but there 's Lieu- 
tenant Hansel over there on his horse." 

" I '11 ask Hansel about this business later," 
grunted the provost with a severe glance. 



CHUGGINS: A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



47 



" Squad, forward ! " 

Chuggins was not molested. He remained 
in Siboney that day; and Hansel, coming just 
before dark for more hay, took his young striker 
up to one of the camps, where he gave orders 
for the boy's supper and breakfast. For sleep- 
ing quarters, that night, Chuggins went back to 
the shack full of hay. 

Early the next morning, he took the trail up 
over the hills to the east that led toward Santi- 
ago. He had seen soldiers marching over that 
trail already, and knew it was the right one. 
He kept on sturdily, determined to go ahead 
until he overtook the soldiers who were push- 
ing on to the front. And so it happened that 
presently he heard the noise like exploding fire- 
crackers all over again. He was now within 
less than half a mile of Las Guasimas, where 
the " Rough Riders " were getting their first real 
taste of war. Heavy and continuous was the 
firing. Spaniards were resisting desperately. 
Roosevelt's men were earning their spurs. 

" I lost the fight yesterday by being slow. 
That sha'n't happen to-day " ; and Chuggins 
broke into a run that carried him every minute 
nearer to the sound of firing. 

Szz-zz-zz ! whizzed something by his ear. 
Running as he was, with every thought fixed 
on what was ahead, the boy did not give heed 
until five or six more passed close to him. 

" Bullets — that 's what they are ! " he cried, 
his eyes snapping. " Now we shall soon know 
what battle is like. Hullo ! Gracious ! " 

Turning a sharp bend in the road, he had 
almost collided with a man, who sat there on 
the edge of a low bank, holding his left arm 
tightly with his other hand. 

" Did n't see you," explained Chuggins, 
apologetically. " Say, you 're hurt, are n't 
you?" 

The man wore the uniform of the Rough 
Riders. Blood was slowly dropping from the 
arm that he held so tightly. 

" Just a scratch," replied the soldier, lightly. 
" But don't you hear the bullets whistling 
through the trees ? There 's hot work going 
on. This is no place for a boy like you." 

" Just the place for me," came the confident 
retort; " only I 'm not near enough to the 
front, yet, to see what 's going on." 



" You could n't see a bit more up where I 
got this," retorted the Rough Rider, with a 
laugh. " It 's all ambush. Take good advice, 
and hurry back to Siboney." 

But Chuggins stood still and shook his head 
stubbornly. 

" I 'm sorry for you," he said. " Can't I 
do something for you ? " 

" Just what you can. Here, take this hand- 
kerchief, and tie it around my arm, just above 
the wound. That 's right. Sight of the blood 
does n't make you sick, does it, sonny ? " 

" Not blood that 's lost this way," came the 
answer, with a positive shake of the head. 
"Dad was a soldier — wounded three times." 

He stopped and looked inquiringly into the 
Rough Rider's face, for the handkerchief was 
tied in place. 

" Pick up that stick," said the man, nodding 
across the road. " Push it through the loop, 
and twist hard. Don't be afraid of hurting me. 
I want you to keep it up until it hurts. There, 
that 's enough. Now, I '11 hold the stick 
twisted with my good hand. It has stopped 
the flow of blood, you see, sonny. Much 
obliged. I 'm ordered back to hospital at 
Siboney. You 'd better come, too." 

Chuggins only smiled and shook his head. 
With a last look at his patient, he set out at 
another jog-trot. 

The man was right. There was hot firing 
going on ahead, as the boy soon knew by the 
constantly increasing number of bullets that 
whizzed within hearing as he got nearer to the 
firing-line. There were other wounded men, 
too, coming back over the narrow road. Some 
of them contented themselves with staring curi- 
ously at the solitary figure trudging resolutely 
to the front. Others urged him to go back. 
A few sharply commanded him to do so. But 
he kept on as if he had not heard them. 

Then Chuggins came upon a sight that made 
him feel as if something were freezing inside of 
him. Just to the right of the road, on the very 
edge of it, lay a young man. He did not 
stir, this young soldier, nor even breathe. In 
the center of his forehead there was a tiny hole. 

Killed in battle — a soldier's death! Frank 
and manly he looked, even now, when the last 
stillness was upon him. A smile of exultation 



4 8 



CHUGGINS: A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



[Nov. 



It 's 




hovered on the face. The mouth seemed try- 
ing to frame a triumphant " Hurrah ! " 

" This is war," thought the boy, shivering. 
" It 's what has to happen to some of us. 
nothing to cry about," he gulped down. 

Next, some- 
thing in the 
dead face of 
that youthful 
Rough Rider 
seemed to give 
the onlooker an 
idea. 

" I believe, 
if he could talk, 
he 'd say I 
ought to." 

With a quick, 
nervous move- 
ment, Chuggins 
bent over and 
took up the 
gun that lay at 
the dead sol- 
dier's side. 
With the pre- 
cision of one who has handled such a weapon 
before, — Chuggins had often done so in camp, 
back in the United States, — he opened the 
breech and looked in. The magazine was 
empty. 

" You would n't mind, if you could say so," 
spoke the boy, softly, as he reached over, taking, 
one after the other, five cartridges from the 
other's ammunition-belt, and slipping them into 
the magazine. Five more cartridges, which he 
thrust into his pocket, and Chuggins ran down 
the road as fast as his feet could carry him ; for 
the firing sounded as if the fight were shifting. 

If there were bullets flying now, he did not 
know it — did not stop to think of them, but 
spurted over the rough, uneven road, full of the 
idea that he was to fire a few more shots for 
that gallant young soldier behind. It was 
strange how completely that idea shut out any 
other thought. Now the firing rang louder 
than ever; there were cheers mingled with it. 
Chuggins came in sight of an irregular mass of 
men ahead. They were charging through the 
jungle and under the trees, firing as they ran. 



'TWIST hard, said the rough rider. 



At a quick, sharp command, they lay down, 
but kept on firing. Panting, Chuggins ran 
among them, unnoticed, throwing himself upon 
the ground between two of the men. Through 
the trees he caught just a glimpse of little 
brown men in blue-and-white uniforms that 
looked very much like bed-ticking. They were 
firing at the Rough Riders as fast as they could 
work their guns, while the Americans, were giv- 
ing rather more than they received. 

Chuggins had no time to see whether men 
were being hit around, him, but he knew that 
the hiss and chug of bullets all about him was 
something terrifying, and he had time to be 
afraid. For a few moments he shook as if 
with ague. It was the thought of that dead 
soldier's face, with the lips trying to say " Hur- 
rah ! " that made a Sperry of him again. Push- 
ing the carbine out in front of him, trying to 
see the blue-and-white uniforms through the 
foresight, Chuggins began to fire. It was amaz- 
ing how quickly that magazine was emptied ! 

Now the Rough Riders were up and yelling 
again. Onward they dashed, and the boy went 
with them. In the rush he was left in the 
second line ; but just as he finished slipping in 
the five fresh cartridges, he reached the front 
rank again. He fired ahead, because the rest 
did ; but it took him longer to empty the 
magazine now than it did when lying down. 
There was a spirited scurrying, a wild hurrah- 
ing, and the Spaniards had fled. 

Now, when men began to breathe again, and 
rest, and look about for comrades, they espied 
Chuggins, or rather noticed him, for the first time. 
Certain of the officers were among the most cu- 
rious. One of them strode swiftly over to the 
boy's side, rested a strong hand on his shoulder, 
and looked down inquiringly into his face. 
Something in the man's features looked familiar. 
Chuggins remembered a portrait that he had 
seen in the newspapers. 

" You 're Mr. Roosevelt, are n't you ? " he 
asked. 

" Yes, my lad ; but who are you ? " 

" Name 's Sperry, sir. Striker for Lieutenant 
Hansel," Chuggins breathlessly explained. 

" How came you here ? Where did you get 
that gun ? What are you doing with it ? " 

Colonel Roosevelt did not look cross, but he 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



49 



plainly meant to have the whole story. So 
Chuggins told it briefly, dwelling on the dead 
soldier whose lips seemed trying to cheer. 

" I felt sure he would n't mind my taking his 
gun, if he could only say so, sir," wound up 
the young narrator. " Fact is, I think he 'd 
have been glad to have me put in a k\v more 
shots for him, and I 'm glad I did." 

" Were n't you scared, Sperry ? " asked 
Colonel Roosevelt, his face softening. 

" Awfully, for a little while, but it wore off," 
came the candid reply. 

Colonel Roosevelt looked at him thought- 
fully. He knew that such a mere boy had no call 
or right to be on the firing-line, but such deeds 
and reasoning as Chuggins offered must per- 
plex a lover of heroes ; so he said as had the 
sergeant at Siboney. 

" Sperry, I don't know what to say to you." 

Just then some one called the Colonel 
away, and Chuggins wandered about in the 
regiment. He stayed with the troops after that, 
first with one regiment and then with another, 
getting farther and farther to the front as the 
army advanced, going back to Siboney only 
when some officer had a message to send. 
That life just suited the boy. There was always 
room for him at night in some " pup-house," 
as the soldiers call their little shelter-tents. 
He never lacked for a meal, helping in all the 
odd chores of camp life that he could. The 
gun that he used at Las Guasimas he had 
given up, and thus became an ordinary camp- 
follower again. Once in a while he encoun- 
tered Lieutenant Hansel, curried that officer's 
horse, or rendered some other service that kept 
up his status as striker, and thus balked the 
officious persons who believed that boys should 
be sent to the rear, and kept there. 

" We 're going to march to-night," said a 
regular army captain to his second lieutenant. 
" There '11 be time for supper, and a little lay- 
off just after dark, and then we go forward." 

" Battle to-morrow ? " asked the lieutenant. 
He was young and eager, having graduated at 
West Point only recently. 

" The orders all seem to point that way," 
replied the captain. " I reckon we '11 be in 
the thick of it soon after daylight." 

Chuggins, lying on his back behind a near-by 



thicket, heard, and pricked up his ears. But 
the two officers walked off out of hearing. 
The soldiers had heard the same news, and 
were discussing it in two different moods. 
While the younger men were eager and de- 
lighted, the old, seasoned regulars took the 
matter more calmly. They were interested, 
but not excited. 

" It will come soon enough, and when it 
comes we 're ready," they said. 

It was the 30th of June, and those who pre- 
dicted battle for the morrow were right. Be- 
fore dark, shelter-tents were ordered struck and 
rolled. After that came supper — the same 
kind of supper that the men had been having 
for a week ; then, after half an hour more, 
" assembly " was blown on the bugles, and the 
regiment was ordered to fall in. 

When the regiment bivouacked that night 
they were much closer to the enemy — so close 
to the front, indeed, that had they built camp- 
fires the Spaniards would have seen them. 

" We '11 try to leave the youngster behind in 
the morning." 

That proposition was made by one sergeant 
to another. Chuggins had squeezed himself 
into the " pup-house " occupied by the pair dur- 
ing the last two nights that he had been with the 
regiment. He had really grown to look upon 
them as stanch comrades ; but now they were 
proposing to leave him out of the morrow's 
battle ! 

" How can it be done ? " asked the other ser- 
geant. 

Chuggins, leaning against the other side of a 
tree in the darkness, heard the reply : 

" The youngster is a pretty sound sleeper in 
the morning, you know. If we 're quiet, we '11 
get away without rousing him. Take the tent 
down carefully in the morning. Poor little 
chap, I 'd hate to see him follow us across the 
valley and get killed ! " 

Chuggins was not indignant. He only felt 
hurt that these veteran comrades should think 
it best to leave him behind. And he was aware 
of that weakness of his for sound sleep in the 
early hours of the morning ! 

True to expectations, he was sound asleep 
when " reveille " went off in the morning. Smil- 
ing like mild conspirators, Sergeant Lake and 



5° 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



[Nov. 



Sergeant Toohey started to strike their little tent 
without disturbing the sleeping boy. Toohey 
grumbled a bit under his breath when one 
corner of the tent refused to come up off the 
ground. He gave it a harder yank, then fell 
back laughing; for the boy, waking up, sat up, 
took a knife out of his pocket, severed the short 
cord with which he had tied that tent corner to 
his ankle, and stood up. 

" Present, sir, and accounted for," announced 
Chuggins, saluting the two discomfited ser- 
geants. Yawning a good deal, he went over to 
help some men who were cooking. 

" Nothing but arrest would keep that young- 
ster from going to the front," grunted Sergeant 
Toohey. " I 'm not even sure that fixed bayo- 
nets would be in his way." 

" But he must n't go too near the front," pro- 
tested Lake, shaking his head. 

" Speak to the colonel about it," urged 
Toohey. 

Lake looked as if he were considering the 
idea, then shook his head. Both had an uneasy 
feeling that it would be like treachery to " tell 
on " the boy who was determined to be a man. 

Thus it was that, not very long after daylight 
on that famous ist of July, when the regiment 
pulled out into the road in its place in the bri- 
gade, Chuggins was marching with them. 

Down the last line of hills into the valley of 
Santiago, the long column of men wound its 
way, marching by twos. To Chuggins, looking 
backward and then forward, that long brigade 
looked like an army. Yet it was only one of 
the four brigades that assaulted the town of El 
Caney that day, and Caney was only one of the 
positions fought for. 

When the column spread out into a thin line 
of battle, when the men, bending forward as 
much as possible, began to run forward, when 
an invisible enemy up the hill began a popping 
fire with guns that belched no smoke — then 
the battle was suddenly on. 

Presently our own men halted, dropped on 
their faces, and commenced to fire up the hill. 
At whom were they firing ? Where was the 
enemy ? Only a veteran soldier could answer 
that question. At first there were frequent 
rushes forward. As the fighting-line got nearer 
to the invisible little brown men, the rushes 



were less frequent, with much longer intervals 
of firing from the ground. Never once — not 
even for a second — did the popping of repeat- 
ing rifles cease. The air was full of the spite- 
ful hiss of those infernal insects of war that 
stung — and often stung to death. Whenever 
the order came to advance, our heroes rose and 
crouched on, along lanes, through chaparral, 
and over gullies, until next the order came to 
lie down and fire. A strange business, this, 
when men spent the entire day getting closer to 
each other, that they might smite each other 
with the most ingenious instruments of death 
that the human mind had been able to perfect ! 
Even Chuggins, with the blood of so many 
fighting ancestors in his veins, began to won- 
der what queer madness had caused this awful 
scene of noise and carnage. 

Several of our bravest men lay dead within 
the boy's sight. The number of wounded was 
increasing. Some, disdaining minor injuries, 
kept on without pausing, while others, worse 
hurt, came crawling painfully back. 

Sergeant Toohey, kneeling to get a better 
shot, suddenly toppled over. 

Though his face whitened, no cry came 
through his lips. Instead, forcing a smile, he 
turned to the man next to him, saying dryly : 

" That felt as if somebody struck me with a 
red-hot club." 

He rested one hand on his left hip, which had 
been shot through. 

So gruesome and fearful had it all become 
that Chuggins began to find himself afraid. 
He felt almost ill, was beginning to shake, when 
he heard a lieutenant inquire : 

" Can you get to the rear unaided, sergeant ? " 

" I think so, sir," replied Toohey, coolly. 

He began to crawl, making fairly good prog- 
ress, when Chuggins, as if by an inspiration, 
began to creep with him. 

Together they got behind a knoll of ground. 

" I believe I can walk now, if the sharp- 
shooters will let me," observed Toohey, when 
he saw that the boy was with him. " Found it 
too hot up there, did you, Chug ? " 

Though the boy flushed, he answered quietly : 

" I came back to help you, sergeant. Going 
to try to walk ? Lean on me." 

" For the love of heaven, Chug, don't try to 



•] 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO. 



51 



walk when you 've two sound hips to crawl 
with. It 's like murdering yourself! " 

But the boy, who was now standing steadily 
on his feet, answered : 

" If you want to walk, lean on me." 

Slowly the pair started. In a few minutes 
more the bullets hissed everywhere about them. 
Both must have borne charmed lives, for through 
it all they passed without being hit, until they 
came to a level space on the other side of 
bushes, where a middle-aged doctor, with sleeves 
rolled up, was giving first treatment to the 
wounded, with the aid of three hospital men. 

" Serious ? " asked the doctor, as the sergeant, 
leaning on Chuggins, came on the scene, slowly 
moving one foot after the other. 

" Not so serious, sir, but I can wait my turn," 
replied Toohey. 

He sank to the ground, and the boy stood 
by, wondering what he could do at this busy 
spot. 

" Doc, can't I have a drink of water ? " 
moaned one poor wounded fellow. 

" You could, if I had it, my man," rejoined 
the surgeon; " but the last drop is gone." 

The mention of water set other men with 
parched mouths to moaning for it. 

" Can't you send and get some, Doc ? " 

" Not now," was the sorrowful answer. 
" You brave fellows are getting shot up ahead 
faster than we can attend to you. Stopping the 
pour of blood is even more important than giv- 
ing water. By and by — " 

Turning, the doctor got sight of Chuggins. 
It made him angry to see a boy needlessly ex- 
posed in this awful place. 

" What are you doing here, youngster ? " he 
demanded gruffly. 

"I — " began Chuggins, slowly. 

" Go back, boy. Get out of this fearful field 
as quickly as you can. Go back where you 
can't even hear a gun ; do you hear ? " 

"I '11 go back at once, sir," replied Chuggins. 

Satisfied, the doctor turned, and went to work 
to bind up a wound. From that patient he 
passed to another and another. Shattered men 
came in faster than he could get them mended ; 
and the moaning for water became a chorus 
of agony. 

" Who 's to have it first, sir ? " 



The doctor wheeled sharply around. His 
questioner was Chuggins, flushed and panting, 
dripping with perspiration, and almost stagger- 
ing under the weight of a half a dozen canteens. 

" I thought I — " began the doctor, angrily. 

" Oh, I went back, sir," smiled the boy, 
cheerfully. " Rounded up a few canteens and 
took them, too, sir. " I 've found a spring not 
far away, and I guess I 'm going to be able to 
keep you in water to-day." 

" Here ! " begged a man burning up inside 
with wound-fever. 

" Bring some here, too." 

" Over this way, when you get time, sonny." 

Dr. Chardon was vanquished by force of cir- 
cumstances. He could no longer remonstrate. 
It would be cruelty to the wounded men to 
drive this sturdy little fellow out of danger. 

So Chuggins stayed — stayed all through the 
long day, and played, without thinking any- 
thing of the sort, the part of a ministering 
angel. No patient under that doctor went 
without water to drink. Nor did the boy, once 
he found work to do, know the feeling of fear 
again, though Spanish sharp-shooters, concealed 
in far-away trees, shot many a wounded man 
under the doctor's eyes that day. 

When the firing-line advanced, the doctor 
went with it, that he might be nearer the men 
who needed his aid. With him went his three 
hospital men — whom sharp-shooters finally 
reduced to one — and Chuggins. 

Once, as Chuggins bent over to hold a can- 
teen to a sufferer's lips, a bullet carried his hat 
away. Not until he had given a drink to two 
more men did he think of the missing sombrero. 
When a canteen was shot out of his hand and 
rendered useless, the boy winced, but that was 
all. Many a time the thudding balls, striking 
the ground near his feet, sent miniature showers 
of dirt over him ; but these were only incidents. 

When the last gallant charge was made, that 
took the stone fort on El Caney's hill, Dr. 
Chardon picked up his instruments and ban- 
dages, and followed in the wake of the men. At 
his side was the surviving hospital man ; at his 
heels, Chuggins. 

" It '11 soon be over, sir," said the hospital 
man, with a weary smile, " and we — " 

It was then that a bullet drilled through the 



5 2 



CHUGGINS : A TALE OF SANTIAGO, 



hospital man's forehead, sending him to the 
ground, dead. 

Ten steps farther, and the doctor was hit — 
hit so forcefully that he reeled back upon the 
boy, who was barely able to support him. 

" That 's mean, when I 'm so badly needed! " 
exclaimed Dr. Chardon, irritably, and pointing 
to the wound in his side. 

The man of surgery was obliged to apply 
one of his bandages to himself. The boy 
helped, with a knowledge born of hours of 
observation. It was an ugly, serious wound. 
Though the surgeon grated his teeth with rage 
at the thought of leaving so many suffering fel- 
lows behind, he found himself obliged to go to 
the rear. Sometimes, too, he was compelled to 
lean so heavily on the little fellow that the lat- 
ter winced and pressed his lips tightly together. 
Spanish sharp-shooters sent many a hissing bit 
of lead and steel after them. It can never be 
explained how the pair got out of the valley 
alive. Even when they reached the field hos- 
pital near General Shafter's headquarters, they 
found it so overcrowded that Dr. Chardon 
sighed, and muttered : 

" We '11 keep on to Siboney." 

A dozen more miles over mountain trails, 
and the first two or three still made dangerous 
by the enemy's sharp-shooters ! Chuggins and 
the doctor can hardly remember how they ever 
got over the long, weary trail. It was mid-' 
night when they arrived at the little city of 
white tents set up for the wounded. 

Chuggins waited until he saw his friend on 
the operating-table in one of the tents. Then, 
going just outside the tent, the boy sank to the 
ground. In a second he was so sound asleep 
that he never stirred until morning. 

With the remembrance of his little comrade 
and the yesterday's work, Dr. Chardon sent for 
him. Lying on a cot, his eyes more than 
merely moist, he grasped the boy's hand. 

" Sperry," he exclaimed earnestly, " you 're 
a hero — one of the real kind ! " 

Modern surgery works wonders: In a week 
Dr. Chardon was going about slowly. Chug- 
gins, who had not quitted him, was his com- 
panion in the first walks. 

All along through the woods between Sibo- 



ney and the hill-town of Firmesa were rude 
little camps which sheltered fugitives who 
had fled from Santiago under the fear of bom- 
bardment. All were hungry, many ill. Dr. 
Chardon heard of these wretched beings, and, 
with his medicine-case, went among them. 

" Don't you come, too," he objected, when 
he saw Chuggins at his side. " My boy, these 
people may be bringing the yellow fever among 
us. I don't want you to get it." 

" If they need you, perhaps I can do some 
good, too. Anyway, you '11 likely need my 
arm coming back." 

In three days Dr. Chardon fell ill. By the 
time that his case was pronounced to be yellow 
fever, Chuggins, too, was ill. Together they 
made the sad journey in a freight-car up to the 
yellow-fever camp in the hills. 

There the battle between life and death was 
fought. Where many died, they were spared. 
Some days later they came forth, wan, yellow, 
and emaciated, but cured. Haggard lines 
around the face spelled for both man and boy 
the words, " Duty done." 

Santiago had fallen. The campaign there 
was over. Gladly enough both the doctor and 
his young friend took passage on a transport 
bound for New York. Reaching there, they 
journeyed fast on to Boston, where, in peace 
times, Dr. Chardon is a prosperous physician. 

From the " Hub," after a rest, both went to 
Chuggins's old home. Uncle Nat and Aunt 
Martha Sperry went nearly wild with delight 
when they heard the whole story from Dr. 
Chardon's lips. 

Uncle Nat scolded, you may be sure, and 
with a good deal of justice, no doubt, over the 
way in which his nephew had gained his unsus- 
pecting consent to go to the front. 

" I only wanted to see whether the Sperrys 
are all alike," said the boy, soberly. 

Dr. Chardon asked that the boy be allowed 
to go down to Boston to live with him. He 
promised such a glowing future for Chuggins 
that the old couple finally consented. 

" If I have n't lost my influence in this dis- 
trict," the doctor now declares, " I 'm going to 
have this youngster sent to West Point. 

And that just suits Chuggins. 




CAPTURE OF THE 

UNICORN 



mw 

3- 




In the dark and mystic ages, ere were written history's 
pages, 

In the days ere seers and sages had the paths of learning trod, 
Far across the broad Atlantic there roamed monsters so gigantic 

That to slay one was a labor for a king or a demigod. 

The fierce hydra, multiheaded, was a creature to be dreaded ; 

And the dragon bold, the Minotaur, the griffin, and the sphinx, 
And the fiery chimera also thrived in that dim era 

Where towers Mount Parnassus and the clear Alpheus sinks. 

But a fiercer foe and greater was the man-exterminator, 

Who several centuries later through the wilderness did tear. 

But though he was ferocious, and his conduct most atrocious, 
He finally was conquered by a maiden young and fair. 

Sgylf'lg^- ^j^^j- Unless Pliny was in error, this strange 



monster was a terror. 

In his make-up there was elephant 
and horse and deer and boar; 




54 



THE CAPTURE OF THE UNICORN. 



All of these the brute resembled, and the 
bravest warrior trembled 
When he woke the mountain echoes with 
his loud, defiant roar. 

But by far the strangest feature of this ^ 

awe-inspiring creature 
Was a horn of large dimensions which 

adorned his deer-like head. ,..-. . ' "\ < ^2rW^ : 

The horn was black and bright (for so did Pliny write), • " ' ''~ 
And its terrible appearance would transfix a man with dread. 




\&»(t^L 



^Ic^sT Many heroes seeking glory were left lying, scarred and gory, 
XJt£jr$ o &~^ <f I n tne dark and somber forest where dwelt the unicorn; 

Neither strength nor skill availed them ; the relentless foe 
assailed them, 

And, ere they knew what ailed them, had im- 
paled them on his horn. 



Now the unicorn loved virtue, and 
said he would n't hurt you 
he felt assured your con- 
science was in a 

healthy state ; 
But your ancient 
Greek and Ro- 
,, J man in pure 
badness yield to 
no man, 
And when they 
met the unicorn 
they met an awful fate! 

One evening in the gloaming, when the unicorn was roaming 
Where through rocky gorges, foaming, the Acis seeks the sea, 
He spied a lovely maiden, her arms with flowers laden, 

Who came walking slowly toward him from beneath a laurel-tree. 

And when he saw this virgin from beneath the tree emergin', 

He came and knelt before her, and quickly fell asleep; 
And while thus he knelt, enraptured, he was approached and captured, 

And led away to slaughter as submissive as a sheep. 







(5 




A VISIT TO BISMARCK. 



By Frederick W. Wendt. 



Men have reigned and ruled ; thousands 
have bent the knee and paid forced homage to 
tyrants and despots : but rarely has a whole 
people, in times of peace, shown such admira- 
tion, such devotion to a human being, as the 
millions of Germans have laid at the feet of 
their idol, Otto von Bismarck, the once all- 
powerful chancellor of "blood and iron." 

On April i, 1815, during the beginning of 
the " Hundred Days " when the destiny of 
Europe was once more trembling in the bal- 
ance through the return of Napoleon from 
Elba, Otto von Bismarck opened his eyes and 
took his first look into a world where he was to 
play so prominent a part. 

Bright as a boy, reckless as a student, and 
brilliant as a man, he passed his earlier life. 
Slowly the latent power of his great mind 
developed, and his clear perception, his indom- 
itable will-power, executed marvels of states- 
manship in most difficult times. At last, in 
1 87 1, at Versailles, before Paris, he struck the 
final blow upon the chain which all his life he 
had been forging — the union of all the German 
states under one supreme head. It is to Bis- 
marck that the house of Hohenzollern owes 
the imperial crown. 

His most cherished hopes realized, the " Iron 
Chancellor" now held in his hand the peace of 
Europe. It was Bismarck who really governed, 
through the Emperor William I. 

The monarch died, and after a brief reign of 
Frederick, the grandson of the first emperor 
received the scepter. William II., though well- 
meaning, was headstrong, and had notions of 
his own, and when the aged chancellor of his 
father and grandfather would not submit to his 
ideas, the chancellor was told to resign. 

On the afternoon of March 29, 1890, a train 
drew out of Berlin, and carried away from the 
chess-board of European politics an old man, 
but one still young in spirit, a man whose 



hand had drawn the boundary lines of many 
of the states of modern Europe. Bismarck sat 
at a train window, and saw Berlin disappear 
in a drizzling rain. The whole of Europe re- 
garded the leaving of that train with anxiety. 

But he had been thrown from his pedestal of 
political power only to be placed upon a higher 
one, reared for him by the love of a grateful 
people, in spite of the displeasure of their 
Emperor. 

And some years ago, even the one dark cloud 
that hung as a censure over Bismarck's life was 
removed. A reconciliation was effected between 
him and his sovereign. On Bismarck's eightieth 
birthday, William II. called on his former chan- 
cellor and wished him long life and happiness. 

Since then the pilgrimages to Friedrichsruh, 
Bismarck's home, have continued. Old and 
young, rich and poor, noble and humble, all 
journeyed out to see and hear the wonderful 
old man. Seldom, indeed, has a living man 
been so honored. 

I had reached Hamburg after a most disagree- 
able trip across the Atlantic. Incessant storms 
at sea have a bad effect upon the ordinary 
mortal. When, during eight days, one has seen 
trunks and bags playing hide-and-seek with one 
another, and everything from a sponge to a 
coat jumping imaginary hurdles in a steamer 
state-room, the blissful steadiness of a hotel on 
land invites to repose. I was, therefore, not at 
all impressed by the over-zealous, gold-laced 
portier of a large Hamburg hotel, who evi- 
dently thought that I had arrived that Saturday 
evening from America for the express purpose 
of visiting Bismarck next day. 

" Mister must visit Friedrichsruh ze Sun- 
day morning." I told him " Mister " was tired, 
and did not care whether the Pope or the Czar 
lived next door and " had " to be seen ; what 
" Mister " wanted was sleep — good, honest, 



56 



A VISIT TO BISMARCK. 



[Nov. 



straightforward sleep, not the imitation slumber 
which was the nearest that could be found 
while afloat on a tossing ocean steamer. 

The poor portier was surprised, nonplussed ; 
but he had his revenge when, the next morning 
(Sunday), I rang my bell at seven o'clock, and 
inquired after the time-table to Friedrichsruh. 

"Ah, it would be difficult — very difficult — for 
Mister to see Bismarck. The Rhenish provinces 
would have the day and the reception." 

As soon as I heard that it would be difficult, 
my mind was immediately made up: I would 
certainly go. 

Nature has blessed many of us with that 
doubtful quality which in the vernacular we 
describe by " pig-headedness." What we can- 
not get we want, and what lies ready before us 
we disdain. An apple or a peach gained by 
the scaling of a lofty orchard wall will, we 
imagine taste sweeter than the fruit to which 
a pleasant path has led. 

An old carriage with a hungry-looking horse 
took me to the station, and soon I was cooped 
up in one of the little railroad compartments, 
speeding toward the Mecca of Germany. 

Two distinguished-looking gentlemen sat near 
me. One, a white-haired giant, a veteran who 
had heard bullets whistle at Sedan, as I discov- 
ered later on, carried a war medal wrapped in a 
piece of newspaper in his pocket. In spite of 
his modesty, he afterward received a hearty 
hand-shake from Bismarck. The other, a no 
less imposing-looking man, a treasure in his 
way, for he was one of the very few I have 
met on my travels who spoke enthusiastically 
of New York and — Chicago, was kissed by 
Bismarck! Both, on their return, were delighted; 
for the honor of a hand-shake or an embrace 
is reserved for comparatively few. 

But let us return to the railroad compartment 
a few minutes longer, and watch the clean, trim 
houses and the garden-like farms slip by. And 
then suddenly, in a reverie of comparison of how 
good and pretty it might be, were the neighbor- 
hoods of our own American cities kept a little 
cleaner, a little neater, a little freer from adver- 
tisements painted and stuck up by the mile, where 
the scenery is best, the train stops. 

I looked around for the magnificent castle in 
which, in my mind, " idols " are usually kept. 



" Konnen Sie mir sagen wo Bismarck's 
Schloss ist ? " I asked an urchin. 

The latter gazed at me in surprise, then 
pointed a grimy finger in the direction of a 
plain stone country house with a brick wall 
around it. 

" That? " I fairly gasped. 

I once more learned that rare birds seldom 
live in golden cages, and that most precious 
gems are often hidden in a poor exterior. A 
simple lodge, with a still simpler gate-keeper, 
guarded the worm-eaten, wooden, and battered 
gates in the brick wall that kept the world at 
large from the man whom Germany worshiped. 
Scratched upon the wall were names and dates. 

One train after another drew up at the station 
platform, and finally all the delegations of the 
Rhenish provinces had arrived. Some of them 
were decidedly queer-looking, and I came to 
the conclusion that I would not be discovered 
if I mixed in with them. Marching lines, four 
abreast, were formed, and with unlimited confi- 
dence I stepped into the ranks. For an hour we 
stood there, while the souvenir-peddlers reaped 
a rich harvest. All at once the band struck up 
" Die Wacht am Rhein." The lines began to 
move, and in a minute more we were marching 
along the winding paths of the woods surround- 
ing the " castle." At every step the enthusiasm 
grew, and when at last we stood before the bal- 
cony where Bismarck was to appear, keen ex- 
pectation could be read upon every face. 

The last verse of the song rolled out from a 
thousand voices, a rich, sonorous hymn of praise 
such as few men have heard addressed to them. 
When the last note had died away, the window 
leading out upon the balcony opened. A tall, 
sturdy figure, slightly bent, a splendid specimen 
of fourscore years, Otto von Bismarck, the 
" Iron Chancellor," stood before us. A wild 
hurrah burst from the multitude again and 
again. Bismarck bowed and smiled, and finally 
raised his hand. Clear and distinct his voice 
rang out, a voice that any speaker half his age 
might have been proud to possess. Although 
powerful in his utterance, he spoke haltingly. 
Often the important word of a sentence failed 
to come, and then, after a pause, with a curious 
pressing motion of his thumbs, he brought it out. 
He spoke without notes, and with a marvelous 



A VISIT TO BISMARCK. 



57 



conviction ; but his 
speeches mean even 
more when read in 
print than when 
spoken. He well knew 
that on the morrow 
every word would be 
weighed and examined 
by a million minds, 
and that he must be 
more than careful in 
every syllable he 
uttered. And yet, he 
did not dress up his 
speech in pretty sen- 
tences with no mean- 
ing. There was sincer- 
ity in every word. 
Now and then he spoke 
of his past. " When a 
reigning minister," he 
said at one time, " be- 
comes very popular, 
there is always a ques- 
tion whether it is not 
at the expense of his 
official duties. I think 
that nobody will be- 
lieve me guilty of this. 

As long as I have been in harness, I have always when I had to bite." Again he says : " When, 
played the part of a watch-dog, and have bitten as a chancellor, I had to choose among evils, 

I have always chosen 
the lesser one ; it has 
never been my privi- 
lege to follow my 
ideal." 

The speech was a 
long and interesting 
one, and nobody 
thought of the time 
that slipped by ; they 
saw and heard only 
the central figure, 
Otto von Bismarck, 
whose every saying 
was as sacred to them 
as the decrees of the 
oracles were to the 
assembled multitudes 

THE PRINCE AND THE YOUNG EMPEROR AT FRIEDRICHSRUH. . • 

Bismarck was still Chancellor when this photograph was made. The dog is Bismarck's favorite " Tyras." *** anCieni times. 

Vol. XXVI.— 8. 




PRINCE BISMARCK ON HORSEBACK. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN l8 




58 



A VISIT TO BISMARCK. 



[Nov. 




PRINCE BISMARCK AND THE YOUNG CROWN PRINCE OF GERMANY SALUTING EMPEROR WILLIAM II. 
(FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN 1895.) 

The speaker stopped, and amid loud and ing from the large balcony into the garden, 
enthusiastic hurrahs descended the steps lead- There were about a thousand people, tightly 




THE EMPEROR AT FRIEDRICHSRUH, CONGRATULATING PRINCE BISMARCK, ON THE DAY BEFORE THE PRINCE'S EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY. 



A VISIT TO BISMARCK. 



59 




SCENE AT FRIEDRICHSRUH, APRIL I, 1895. PRESENTS ARRIVING ON PRINCE BISMARCK S BIRTHDAY. 



packed, and little chance that he would come 
anywhere near me. Suddenly the masses parted, 
and, as good luck would have it, Bismarck 
walked straight to the place where we were 
standing, and I was shoulder to shoulder with 
him for several minutes. In a kind, genial man- 
ner he spoke to us, and shook my old Sedan- 
soldier train acquaintance by the hand. How 
steadily and clearly his eyes looked into ours ! — 
a tear on either lash the only evidence of old 
age. Of course every one was anxious to be 
addressed. Here and there Bismarck would 
stop and say a few cordial words. One little 
snatch of conversation, I remember, made a 
great impression on me. Bismarck turned to 
one of the men near whom I stood. 

" And where is your home? " he asked. 

" The town of M , your Excellency," re- 
plied the stout little Rhinelander, red in the 
face from excitement and pride at being hon- 
ored by a remark. Then, too proud to restrain 
himself, he added : " And we have made your 




PRINCE BISMARCK ON ONE OF THE BALCONIES OF FRIEDRICHSRUH 
ADDRESSING A DELEGATION. 



6o 



A VISIT TO BISMARCK. 



Excellency honorary president of our bowling 
club at M ." 

A faint, humorous smile came to Bismarck's 
face as he replied : " Ich war audi einmal ein 
ganz guter Kegler " (" I, too, was once a fairly 
good bowler"). 

Yes ; and armies and empires fell before the 
bowling done by Bismarck! 

Honorary president of the bowling club of 

M , a village forgotten even on the maps ! 

At first it seemed ludicrous to me, and then I 
saw a deeper meaning in the little incident. 

These honest, good-hearted burghers of M 

could pin no medal or order to ; ' their" Bis- 
marck's breast; but they loved him, and gave 
him the greatest title in their power. 

It is incredible that to a man so universally 
beloved, the Reichstag, the German House of 
Representatives, should have refused congratu- 
lations to his eightieth birthday. But the peo- 
ple, and the Emperor himself, have since then 
tried, and more than succeeded, in wiping out 
the insult. A torrent of more than two hundred 



thousand congratulatory letters and ten thou- 
sand telegrams have flooded Friedrichsruh, and 
rare and costly gifts have filled many freight- 
trains to that simple country home. So numer- 
ous and choice have they been that a " Bismarck 
Museum," containing almost a thousand birth- 
day presents, was opened in Berlin. 

A man over eighty, yet in the prime of intel- 
lectual vigor, every few days he would greet a 
new gathering of admirers with a fresh, interest- 
ing speech especially adapted to the character of 
the listeners before him ! Every time he seemed 
to draw and distribute from his rich fountain of 
experience of fourscore years just what was 
needed by his audience. 

They have laid this grand old man to rest, to 
sleep, after the long life that meant so much to 
Germany and to the world. As I think of him, 
now resting peacefully beneath one of his fa- 
vorite trees, that pleasant, sunny afternoon at 
Friedrichsruh, when he spoke to us so power- 
fully, stands out vividly in my memory. 




FRIEDRICHSRUH, THE RESIDENCE OF PRINCE BISMARCK. 




PETS IN THE NAVY. 



By Mrs. Charles D. Sigsbee. 



Off Guantanamo, Cuba, were our war-ships, 
and among them was the little despatch-boat 
" Dolphin." She is a small vessel, and has only a 
few guns ; but she had on board a very bright 
and funny goat, and I think you will like to 
hear of his doings. The men were very fond 
of the goat, " Billy " by name, and made him 
an embroidered coat, or blanket. 

Billy always attends " quarters," and stands in 
line with the men in the morning. When they 
drill on shore he marches with them. He eats 
everything, as goats usually do, and particu- 
larly delights in rope-yarn, and bits of tobacco. 
At one time he made himself very ill eating 
two boxes of sulphur matches. His great trick 



is to clean out the men's pipes. He prefers 
hot ashes to cold, so when a man is smoking, 
the goat stands erect, and, putting his fore foot 
on the man's chest, he licks out the pipe which 
the man holds in his mouth. 

I have not heard how Billy liked the noise of 
the guns in battle. He is so bright, perhaps he 
learned even to fire one. 

There was another pet on board the Dolphin 
— a cat, called "Stump" because of his short tail. 
Poor Stump fell overboard, one day. The men 
lowered a boat and rescued him, but he was 
nearly drowned. He swallowed so much salt 
water that it gave him a very bad pain indeed, 
and that night his howls were dreadful to hear. 



62 



PETS IN THE NAVY. 



[Nov. 



The next day he breathed his last, and was truly 
mourned by the men. 

Sailors are very fond of pets, and think they 
bring luck to the ship. 

There was a green-and-yellow Mexican parrot 
on board a ship. She talked much, and at times 



any fastening of the door. After walking about 
the deck awhile, she thought she would give her 
wings a little exercise. So away she flew to 
what she thought was a nice green field ; but 
when she tried to alight on it, poor Polly found 
that the field was nothing but water. She 




"POLLY WAS JUST ABOUT TO DROWN WHEN AN OAR PUSHED UNDER HER SAVED HER LIFE.' 



also sang. She said " Poor Polly ! " and " Pretty 
Polly ! " in a great many different tones. She 
called many persons by name, saying, " Mary, 
Harry, oh, Harry, come to supper ! " " What 's 
the matter, Polly ? What 's the r-r-row ? " 
(She always rolled her r's like a Frenchman.) 
She sang "Go Tell Aunt Rhody," and "I 'm 
Called Little Buttercup," from " Pinafore " — 
getting much off the key in the last part. Polly 
got out of her cage, one day. She could open 



could not swim, so she fluttered and splashed, 
squawking all the time, and was just about to 
drown when an oar, pushed under her by a 
man in a boat, saved her life. 

A wet parrot is a most miserable object; 
but Polly comforted herself, while drying her 
feathers, with remarks about " Poor Polly ! " 
"What 's the matter, poor Polly?" "Polly, 
want your head scratched?" and finally aston- 
ished us all by screaming and half crying : 



PETS IN THE NAVY. 



63 



"Oh — oh — my stomach 's as har-r-d as a 
br-r-r-ick ! " doubtless referring to the effect 
produced by the salt water. 

Almost everybody has heard of " Tom," the 
cat that was found on the superstructure of 
the " Maine " after the explosion. Tom 
was wounded in one foot, and was doubtless 
feeling very blue indeed, with his favorite sleep- 
ing-place destroyed, no friendly hands to min- 
ister to his wants, and nothing but water and 
ruin on every side ! How glad he must have 
been to hear a voice that he knew, and to be 
taken on board the U. S. S. " Fern," in Havana 
harbor! A few days after, he was placed upon 
a chair to have his picture taken. This chair 
was a large wicker arm-chair which was saved 
from the wreck of the Maine. Tom sat in it, 
and tried to look pleasant, as the photographer 
told him. He felt peaceful, his foot was well, 
he had just eaten his favorite meal of fish, and 
the first pose was a success. A second was 
attempted. Tom was almost asleep, and look- 
ing very happy, when " Bruiser," the Fern's 
dog, — a big, rough fellow with a loud bark and 
sharp white teeth, — came near. Tom arched 
his back like a contortionist at a circus. His 
tail swelled, and the fur stood out till he seemed 
twice his natural size ; and so the second pic- 
ture was taken. Tom is quite a navy cat. 
He was brought on board the Maine by an 
officer who took him from the U. S. S. " Min- 
nesota," where he had been I don't know how 
long. If Tom is still on board ship, he must 
feel very frightened when the big guns are fired, 
and I fear his tail will become permanently 
large, and his back a continual bow ! How- 
ever, Bruiser left the U. S. S. Fern after a while, 
and appeared on board the " St. Paul," at Phil- 
adelphia. He was a plucky, lively fellow, full of 
fun, and no respecter of persons. He would 
just as soon rush into the captain's cabin as 
into the galley. Poor Bruiser! He was only 
a cur, although, while he was a puppy, he con- 
cealed his plebeian pedigree. In a short time, 
however, he showed his cur-like qualities, and 
was sent on shore. 

On board the St. Paul was seen one lean, 
black cat, which is doubtless a mascot. Lately 
the captain has had given him a dog, 
" Dixie " by name. Dixie is not a dog of 



high degree, but is big, lively, faithful, and 
affectionate. 

You have heard of " Peggie," the pug-dog 
on the U. S. S. Maine when she was blown 
up. Peggie is now at Key West. She is a 
pretty little dog. She was a tiny puppy when 
first given to the captain of the Maine, a little 
more than a year ago, and was very full of fun 
and mischief. She always slept in the cabin, 
and amused herself by " worrying " any shoes 
she found, and dragging about anything she 
could, as most puppies do. She always fol- 
lowed the captain everywhere, no matter how 
many steps and ladders were to be climbed. 
This caused her to break her leg, one day. 
The leg was put in splints; but Peggie could 
not keep still enough to have it knit properly, 
so when she was well this leg was a little shorter 
than the others. 

Peggie was very fond of rushing at the waste- 
paper basket and dragging out the contents. 
She would whine and cry in a very funny way 
when she could not get them out. She re- 
garded with great suspicion any one in civilian 
dress coming on board the Maine, and barked 
at all who were not in uniform. She could turn 
a somersault if you held her head down a second. 

One day she came into the cabin with a chicken- 
bone sticking out of one side of her mouth, and 
a pretty nasturtium blossom in the other side. 




OF THE BATTLE-SHIP 



She looked so cute that I wish I had the pic- 
ture to show you. One ear stuck up and the 
other lay down, giving her a very comical ex- 
pression. She knew just what she wanted to do. 



6 4 



PETS IN THE NAVY. 



Laying the flower carefully down in one corner, 
she took the bone into another and proceeded 
to eat it. After the bone had been disposed 
of, she took the flower in her mouth again, 
and finally left it at the captain's feet. 

Once she was taken driving at 
Key West, and while the car- 
riage was in motion, she 
jumped out of the vehicle 




on one side and into it at the other, until the 
person she was with feared she would break 
all her legs. Afterward she thought 
the horses' tails were meant especially 
for her to play with ; so over the 
dash-board to bite the tails, and down 
under the horses' feet, she went. But 
she was not hurt, and soon sprang 
into the carriage again. 






■ STUMP, THE DOLPHIN S CAT. 



THE RIVALS. 



By Carolyn Wells. 



Two well-built men, neither giant nor dwarf, 
Were Monsieur Elims and Mynheer Nworf. 
They lived in a town not far away, 
And spent their time in work and play. 
Now Monsieur Elims wa,s loved by all — 
By rich and poor, by great and small. 
And Mynheer Nworf remarked, one day: 
" Brother, explain to me, I pray, 
Why no one likes me as well as you, 
No matter what I may say or do ? 
I have stores of knowledge packed in my head; 
I am learned and wise and very well-read ; 
I can dance, I can sing, I 'm extremely 

polite ; 
I am worth a large fortune all in my own 

right. 



But still, — and this question has caused me 

much thought, — 
While I am neglected, you 're everywhere 

sought." 
Monsieur Elims replied : " My dear sir, 

that is true ; 
But you see, I am I, and you see, you are 

you. 
If I receive praises, and you receive blame, 
'T is doubtless because each lives up to his 

name." 

You '11 find his defense rather puzzling, I 
fear ; 

But read their names backward — the mean- 
ing is clear. 




Once there was a child who worried, 
Fumed, and fretted all day long ; 

Always cross and always flurried — 
Sure the world was going wrong. 



Borrowing care," her mother taught her 
" Never any good will do ; 
Cease to fuss and fret, my daughter, 
Lest real trouble come to you." 



Vol. XXVI.— 9. 



But the maiden would not mind her 
Till she woke, one day, and there, 

On the pillow, close behind her, 
Crouched the shadow of a care. 
65 



66 



THE SHADOW OF A CARE. 



[Nov. 



It was black as any trouble, 
And a most unpleasant shape. 

Vainly did she twist and double 
In her efforts to escape. 



If she ran, it followed, keeping 

Ever closely at her side ; 
Close behind her it came creeping, 

Everywhere she strove to hide. 

People soon began to shun her, 
For they said : " When any maid 

Has such shadows cast upon her, 
There 's some reason, we 're afraid." 



Now, her fretful ways repenting, 
Goes the child ; but everywhere, 

Close behind her, unrelenting, 
Creeps the shadow of a care. 




■rt-H.- 



HOW MR. DRAKE WENT TO COURT. 

(A Negro "Mammy's" Bedtime Story.) 



By Emma M. Backus. 



R. DRAKE was al- 
ways pokin' 'bout in 
de puddles an' gul- 
lies, an' he fin' lots 
ob money ; an', as he 
hab novvhar to spend 
it, he save it up, 'ca'se 
he no use for it in 
de farm-yard ; an' he 
go roun' an' talk 'bout 
it, so de rest ob de 
fowls dey soon come 
to all know 'bout his 
money, an' some way before long Mr. Buz- 
zard he hyar ob it. 

Now, in de olden time de Eagle an' de Buz- 
zard dey bof look jes' erlike ; but de Eagle was 
de King ob de birds, 'ca'se he was de braves' 
an' stronges' ob all de whole tribe. 




One day, when Mrs. Hen was walkin' roun' 
de barn-yard, she see er shadder oberhade, an' 
she squeak out, " Oh, Mr. Drake, dar de King 
Eagle!" She don' know no better; an' Mr. 
Drake he think it de King, sho. So when Mr. 
Buzzard come sailin' down, Mrs. Hen scrape 
her foot an' drag her wing, an' so do Mr. Drake 
an' all de rest ; an' Mr. Drake he bow low, an' 
he say, " Good mawnin', King Eagle." Mr. 
Buzzard feel mighty proud when he see dey 
take him for King Eagle, so he glare he eye, 
an' walk like he got on top-boots, an' try to 
hoi' he bill up an' look grand, twell Mr. Drake 
feel very 'umble. 

Den Mr. Buzzard say, " I hyar yo' got some 
money ; don' yo' want to lend it to me at in- 
trust ? I '11 pay yo' good intrust." Mr. Drake 
he say, " Yas; I '11 be proud to 'blige yo'." An' 
he scrapes up he money, an' bring it to Mr. 



HOW MR. DRAKE WENT TO COURT. 



67 



Buzzard, an' he say, " Hyar 's de money, King, 
an' I don' want no intrust; it am a great honor 
to lend yo' money." But Mr. Buzzard he 'sist 
that he goin' to pay intrust ; an' he roll he eye, 
an' hold up he hade, an' fly erway up in de sky 
twell dey see nuffin but er black speck. 

Mr. Drake feel proud an' set up. But er 
long time go by, an' he don' get no intrust or 
no money or no word frum de King. An' he 
git oneasy, an' he say he gwine to de co't 
an' ax for he money. But he wait erwhile 
longer twell he patience all gone, den he start 
off on de long journey to de co't ; an' on de way 
he pass er pore Mockin'-bird wid he foots fasten 
to er lime-tree, an' Mockin'-bird say, " Oh, Mr. 
Drake, my foots is stuck fast, an' I can' git 
erway ! " Mr. Drake feel very sorry for him, an' 
he say, "I '11 help yo'"; an' he 
go an' fotch some water in he 
bill, an' soak de Mockin'-bird's 
foots twell he git loose; an' 
Mockin'-bird promise Mr. Drake 
if he eber hab a chance ter do 
him er good turn, he will reco- 
member. 

Den Mr. Drake journey on, 
an' toreckly he come to de sea- 
shore, an' dar was de co't on er 
big rock, an' King Eagle on de 
throne, an' all his orsifers, Hawks, 
Peacocks, an' uder birds, settin' 
down in front ob him. Mr. 
Drake he walk straight up to 
King Eagle, an' he say, "Quack, quack, quack! 
I want my money back ! " 

De King he greatly s'prised, an' he say, 
" What yo' mean, sar, makin' all dat racket an' 
'sturbin' de co't ? " 

Mr. Drake he tell him he done take he 
money an' promised him intrust, an' den neber 
send no word; an' he say, "Quack, quack, 
quack ! I want my money back ! " 

Den says de King, " De bird am crazy ; I 
neber see him, nor borry money ob him"; an' 
he tell Mr. Peacock ter " take dat troublesome 
rascal off in de woods ten miles erway, an' gib 
him er good beatin', an' let him go." 

Den Mr. Peacock and 'nother orsifer walks 
Mr. Drake erway, one on each side; an' when 
dey gits 'bout er mile erway in de woods, Mr. 



Mockin'-bird he sees he old friend in such 
trouble, an' he studies 'bout how he gwine help 
him. Den soon Mr. Peacock hyar er voice in 
de air oberhade, shoutin', " Rain, rain, rain ! " 

Dat was Mr. Mockin'-bird, but Mr. Peacock 
don' know dat; an' dey say, "We got ter be 
gittin' home 'fore de rain ; we might jes' as well 
let Mr. Drake go, an' hurry back"; 'ca'se Mr. 
Peacock ain't gwine git he fedders wet nohow, 
if he kin help it. So dey turn Mr. Drake loose, 
an' run off in great haste. 

Pore Mr. Drake feel very much insulted by 
he treatment at co't, an' he think it 'ca'se he 
sech er plain, ugly bird, an' all de co't orsifers 
so fine ; an' he don' want ter go back no mo', 
but he want he money powerful. So he clean 
up he clo'es, an' take he way back to co't, an' 




MR. BUZZARD BORROWS MR. DRAKE S SAVINGS. 



walk in as befo', an' say, " Quack, quack, quack ! 
I want my money back ! " 

An' de King he mo' mad dan eber ; an' he 
say, " I got ter git iid ob dis crazy bird some 
way " ; an' he call Mr. Fox, an' tell him to 
" take Mr. Drake off to de woods an' eat him 
up." So Mr. Fox he pick up Mr. Drake, an' 
run off to de woods. 

An' Mr. Drake think he time hab come. 

But when Mr. Mockin'-bird see he ol' friend 
in such danger, he feel he bound ter help him ; 
an' presen'ly a bird drap like he dade right in 
de path in front ob Mr. Fox. 

Mr. Fox say, " Hyar 's er good mouthful " ; so 
he try to hoi' on ter Mr. Drake wid he foot 
while he eat de bird. But when he fin' him- 
self loose, Mr. Drake run erway, an' Mr. Mock- 



68 



HOW MR. DRAKE WENT TO COURT. 



in '-bird fly up on de tree. Den Mr. Fox hyar 
er noise like er man callin' er dog, an' he think 
de hunters comin', and he run off home fas' as 
he kin go. 

Den pore ol' Mr. Drake feel so 'umble an' 
lost heart, an' he tell Mr. Mockin'-bird all 
he troubles. An Mr. Mockin'-bird tell him, 
tak' courage ; he know dar some mistake, 
'ca'se de King am honor'ble. And so dey 
journey back to co't once mo' ; an' Mr. Mock- 
in'-bird set up on de tree to fin' out what de 
matter. 

Pore ol' Mr. Drake he walk up to de King, 
brave, an' he say up promp', " Quack, quack, 
quack ! I want my money back ! " De King 
was mos' 'stracted, an' he 'bout to hab Mr. 
Drake killed on de spot, when Mr. Mockin'- 
bird he see Mr. Buzzard workin' in de mud 
down back ob de co't, an' he say, " Oh, Mr. 
King, dar de feller dat pass off fo' yo' Majesty, 
an' borry de money!" An' de King was 
powerful angry, an' he call up Mr. Buz- 
zard frum he work, an' mak' him pay Mr. 
Drake he money. Den he order all de fed- 
ders striped frum Mr. Buzzard's neck, an' sand 
rubbed in he eye. So Mr. Buzzard neber try 
to be taken fer King Eagle since dat day. 




^^ 



MR. MOCKING-BIRD RESCUES MR. DRAKE. 

Mr. Drake say " Thank yo' " to Mr. Mock- 
in'-bird, an' he journey back home, feelin' 
very proud, an' sayin', " Quack, quack, quack ! 
I got my money back! " 





r<3au- 



By Oliver Herford. 



The Earthquake rumbled 
And mumbled 
And grumbled; 
And then he bumped, 
And everything tumbled — 
Bumpyty-thump ! 
Thumpyty-bump ! — 
Houses and palaces all in a lump ! 
" Oh, what a crash ! 
Oh, what a smash ! 
How could I ever be so rash ? " 
The Earthquake cried. 



"What under the sun 
Have I gone and done ? 
I never before was so mortified ! " 
Then away he fled, 
And groaned as he sped : 
" This comes of not looking before I 
tread." 

Out of the city along the road 
He staggered, as under a heavy load, 
Growing more weary with every league, 
Till almost ready to faint with fatigue. 




6 9 



7o 



THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE 



He came at last to a 

country lane 
Bordering upon a field 

of grain ; 
And just at the spot 

where he paused 

to rest, 
In a clump of wheat, 

hung a Dormouse 

nest. 



The sun in the west 

was sinking red, 
And the Dormouse 

had just turned 

into bed, 
Dreaming as only a 

Dormouse can, 
When all of a sudden 

his nest began ' 

To quiver and shiver and tremble and shake. 
Something was wrong, and no mistake ! 

In a minute the Dormouse was wide awake, 
And, putting his head outside his nest, 
Cried: "Who is it dares disturb my 
rkst?" 

His voice with rage was a husky squeak. 
The Earthquake by now had become so weak 
He 'd scarcely strength enough to speak. 
He even forgot the rules of grammar; 




All he could do was to feebly stammer : 
" I 'm sorry, but I 'm afraid it 's me. 
Please don't be angry. I '11 try to be — " 

No one will know what he meant to say, 

For all at once he melted away. 

A mouse's rage was the final straw 

To a thing that had filled a land with awe. 

The Dormouse, grumbling, went back to 
bed. 
" Oh, bother the Bats ! " was all he said. 





It was a Discontented Boy 

Who lay upon the lawn, 
And grieved because vacation days, 
With all their pleasant sports and plays, 

Too soon, alas ! were gone. 




Some sparrows near him hopped around 
And, as he watched, "the boy became 
Filled with an envy most profound 
Because the birds were free from rules, 
And never even heard of schools ; 
And, sitting by, I overheard 
This boy wish he was "just a bird." 

Scarce had the words been said — alas ! - 
When, swift as lightning, from the grass 



Puss bounded, and one cruel blow 
Laid one poor chirping sparrow low. 
Then said the Discontented Boy : 
"I really never thought of that — 
Ah, well ! I wish I was a cat." 

Just then a dog of monstrous size 
Comes up the street — the cat he spies; 
Springs for her, and half dead with fright 
Puss drops her prey and 
takes to flight. 
Then said the Discon- 
tented Boy: 




Instead of 

cat, 
I 'd like to 

that." 



72 



THE DISCONTENTED BOY. 



But even as he spoke, a man 
Seized on the dog, and in a van 
Thrust the unhappy hound. 
"Where will you take him?" said the 
boy. 
The man said: "To the pound; 
And if nobody comes for him, 
To-morrow he '11 be drowned." 



" Ouch ! " said the Boy, " I 'm very sure 

I should n't fancy that; 
Nor being pounced on, like the bird, 

Nor worried, like the cat. 
It seems, somehow, that everything 

Has sorrow mixed with joy; 
So after all I guess that I 

Would rather be a boy." 






THE SIGH OF THE SUMMER 
FAIRIES. 



A slim little rogue of a Summer Elf, in katydid-colored 

hose, 
He sighed to a fair little Summer Fay, in a gown of the 

pink wild-rose : 
" Oh, dear, and oh, dear, the ebb of the year, and the 

short, drear days ! 
We must leave the fields to the Graybeard Elves and the 

Snowflake Fays ! 

" Ah, the happy wing-time, 
Summer-time and springtime, 
The green fairy-ring-time, 

Is all gone away ! 
Time now for shed leaves, 
Ragged leaves and red leaves 
And pale-brown dead leaves, 

That were so fresh in May ! 



"Oh, merry were we at the full o' the moon, when we raced with the rollicking hares! 
We pelted the sleepy owl at noon, if we came on him unawares; 
And we teased the surly old burly bee, who seemed in a hurry to pass ; 
And we chose the wings that we liked the best to carry us over the grass ! 
Vol. XXVI.— io. 73 



74 



THE SIGH OF THE SUMMER FAIRIES. 

" Wings with golden freckles, 
Wings with crimson speckles, 
Wings with azure veining, 

All have flown away. 
It grieves us to remember 
Their brightness, in November. 
The chilly wind 's complaining, 

That was so mild in May. 




"teased the surly old burly bee. 



"We must steal off to sleep with the velvet mole, or crouch in an empty nest, 
Or cuddle close in some squirrel hole, for a long, warm, winter's rest; 
And the Graybeard Elves and the Snowflake Fays, for a while they must have their turn, 
As the silvery frostwork takes the place of the feathery summer fern. 



" We shall dream of springtime, 
Song-time and wing- time, 
Till sunbeams warm and yellow 

Shall tickle us, one day, 
And wake us .fairy friskers 
To pull the squirrels' whiskers, 
And whisper, ' Furry fellow, 

The winter 's worn away ! ' " 




In a far country lived a King who was a 
wise man and a great musician ; his subjects 
called him Sol-Fa the Good. 

To govern his people wisely, and to cultivate 
in them a true love for music and poetry, 
formed the chief aim of this good King's life ; 
but even more than this he loved his little 
daughter Madrigal. Princess Madrigal re- 
turned her father's love, and did everything in 
her power to please him ; but she was of a gay 
and laughing disposition, and the time which 
she was compelled to spend at the piano was a 
sore trial — Princess Madrigal called it time 
misspent. 

To encourage the study of music, the King 
held a great yearly festival, when prizes were 
given for the most excellent composition and 
to the most skilled performer. These feasts 
were held on the Princess's birthdays, and the 
one which marked her tenth year will long be 
remembered, as on that occasion a stranger 
came to the court and begged the protection 
of the King. 

There was nothing remarkable in the appear- 
ance of the stranger, who was a little woman, 
but she told the King so sad a story that he 
willingly gave the permission which she desired 
that she might remain in his kingdom and be 
allowed to attend the musical feasts. 

Her gratitude for the King's favor was such 
that she told him it was in her power to give 
him whatsoever he should ask for. The King, 
greatly delighted with this opportunity, at once 
desired a musical throne. The stranger seemed 
pleased with the King's wish, and said: 

"Your Majesty shall find the throne to- 
morrow morning in the great hall of the castle ; 



and," added the strange little woman, "just 
as long as you are good, and listen to the prayer 
of the oppressed, the musical throne shall play 
whenever you sit upon it. It shall suit its music 
to your mood. When you are sad it shall con- 
sole you with softest melodies ; and when you 
are happy it shall, by its magic strains, lead you 
on to greater joyfulness. But if you should 
change to your people, and be false to yourself, 
the musical throne shall mock you, and that 
will cause wretchedness of which you could 
never dream." 

The King was greatly impressed with the 
words of his strange guest, and so excited that 
he scarcely slept at all that night ; and early 
morning found him in the great hall, where, to 
his astonishment, he beheld the wonderful 
throne, which is still the pride of the kingdom. 

Before the stranger left the court, next day, 
she called the Princess Madrigal to her, and 
offered her also a wish. But the Princess's head 
was full of nonsense, and perhaps she was a 
little bit frightened; at any rate, she could 
think of nothing quite worth wishing for. Her 
appearance was so sweet and gentle, however, 
that the lonely woman said : 

•' You may keep your wish, little Princess, 
and I shall grant it if the time ever comes when 
you really want one thing more than all others. 
But your one wish must be wished in my pres- 
ence on your birthday night, just before the 
clock strikes one." 

The little strange woman took up her abode 
in a tiny cottage on the side of a hill quite 
near the castle ; and as the years went on, heavy 
vines grew over the cottage until it could 
scarcely be distinguished from the green hill- 



75 



7 6 



PRINCESS MADRIGALS WISH. 



[Nov. 



side ; and as no one was ever seen to enter or 
leave the place, it came, in time, to be called 
the Wishing-Witch's Cave. 

When Princess Madrigal had grown to be a 
beautiful young woman the King was no longer 
young, and he desired to marry his daughter to 
some good prince, who should rule his people> 
and leave him more time for his favorite study. 

In order to choose a proper husband for the 
Princess, a greater musical feast than common 
was announced for her twentieth birthday. 
Invitations were sent out weeks in advance to 
the princes of all the neighboring countries, 
and it was understood that the prince who 
should sing the most beautiful song would be 
chosen husband of the Princess Madrigal, and 
crowned king to succeed the good Sol-Fa. 
" For," said King Sol-Fa, " I care not for 
wealth, or fame, or strength ; music is the 
greatest good ; it alone can keep the heart true 
and tender ! " 

Here, indeed, was a prize worth the winning ! 
And all the gallants of the court bent their 
energies upon securing it to themselves. They 
became nervous at the sight of an open win- 
dow, and shuddered at the thought of a 
draft. 

A certain Prince Roundelay, much famed 
for the wit and rhyme of his conversation, went 
about with his throat tied up in cotton batting, 
so careful had he become of his voice. But 
Princess Madrigal said : " What a bore it all 
is ! I should certainly rather marry a prince 
who could not sing than one who could, for 
he would be less vain." 

At last the great day came when the King, 
seated on his wonderful throne, received the 
princes. And it was a beautiful sight to see 
the long train, bearing guitars, harps, lutes, 
mandolins, zithers, and other musical instru- 
ments, each kneeling as he passed the King's 
throne, while a herald proclaimed his name and 
station. 

But the Princess Madrigal was not pleased 
with the appearance of any of the candidates, 
and as her gaze wandered away from the 
throng, she noticed a young man standing near 
the door, who seemed to take no interest in the 
King or the procession, but kept his beautiful, 
sad eyes fastened upon her face. 



The Princess thought him the handsomest 
man she had ever seen, and wondered why he 
should seem so dispirited. She became so 
curious that she finally sent a page to request 
him to come to her. He came at once. 

" Who are you ? " asked the Princess. 

" I am called the Knight of the Crimson 
Crest," answered the stranger. 

" Are you not a prince, then ? " asked the 
Princess, withdrawing a little. 

" I am a king, Your Highness ! " answered the 
crested knight. " But I found it very dull 
being a king, so I have left my kingdom in the 
hands of my brother, who is good and wise, 
and a year ago I rode forth into the world, 
with this thought in my heart : to make wrong 
right wherever I could. And now I am on my 
way back to spend a week at my castle, to see 
if my brother and my people are happy." 

" How very interesting ! " smiled Princess 
Madrigal. " But where is your harp ? Surely 
you will sing at to-morrow's feast ? " 

" Alas ! " said the Prince, looking very much 
grieved, " I have no voice ; I can never sing 
the lovely song that has come into my heart ! " 

" Would you like to sing ? " whispered the 
Princess, blushing. 

" Yes, indeed ! " said the Prince, " for I know 
that you are as good as you are beautiful." 

This charmed the Princess, for she was indeed 
very good, except about practising her scales 
and exercises, and she began to like the young 
Prince more and more ; and wishing to hear fur- 
ther of him, she said : 

" Since you cannot make music, what can 
you do ? What have you done ? Have you 
nothing to be proud of? " 

Then the young King held up his head, and 
he looked very tall, while the crimson crest 
glowed on his helmet as he made answer : 

" Nothing great have I done as yet, fair 
lady ; but I am very proud, for I have kept the 
truth ; in all my life I have never told a lie ! " 

" Why, that is the finest thing in the world ! " 
exclaimed the Princess, who was less used to 
truth than to poetry. " And / will give you a 
voice, and you shall sing at the feast ! " 

" Oh, Princess," cried the youthful knight, 
his face beaming with joyful surprise, " what do 
your strange words mean ? " 



PRINCESS MADRIGALS WISH. 



77 




' THROWING BACK HIS HEAD, HE SANG A SONG OF SUCH POWER AND SWEETNESS THAT THE KING 
WEPT WITH DELIGHT, AND THE PRINCESS ALMOST FAINTED WITH JOY." 

But the Princess only laughed as she said : true-hearted knight in the great hall of the 

" Meet me here to-night as the clock strikes castle, and said to him : 

twelve." " In all my life I may have but one wish, and 

That night, when all the musical clocks were in all the year there is but one night and one 

chiming the hour together, the Princess met her hour when I may wish it." 



78 



PRINCESS MADRIGALS WISH. 



[Nov. 



The Prince was very much impressed by the 
earnest manner of the Princess, who had been 
so merry, and waited for her to continue ; but 
in silence she took his hand and led him out 
into the darkness. 

" We must hurry," she said, " for my wish 
must be made at the Wishing- Witch's Cave be- 
fore the clocks strike one." 

Then the Prince began to understand, and he 
was so happy that he could scarcely whisper. 

" Dear Princess, shall you wish your wish to- 
night ? " 

" Yes," said the Princess, very softly. Then, 
laughing gaily, she added : " How glad I am 
that I did not spend my wish when I was a 
little girl ! For when I was twelve years old 
I had quite determined to wish that all the 
pianos would vanish out of the world. I actu- 
ally went as far as the door, and only the dark- 
ness kept me from going to the witch's cave." 

By this time they had reached the home of 
the wishing-witch. The musical clocks were 
sounding half-past twelve. 

The cave was quite dark, except for a little 
blue light, the shape of the crescent moon, which 
floated or darted about in a restless way. The 
Princess sang a little song very softly, and the 
blue crescent light stood still, as if listening, and 
the Princess made her wish. 

Then the witch's voice said : 

" This wish is the hardest that ever was 
wished, but I shall try to grant it." The Prin- 
cess had asked that the Prince might have, for one 
hour, the most beautiful voice in all the world. 

The blue crescent light seemed quite beside 
itself, and darted about so quickly that you 
could never tell where it would next appear; 
and the witch was singing a queer song. The 
only words which reached the Prince were: 

" — The echo of the song the dying swan sings, 
The feather that falls from Fancy's wings." 

Then there was a moment's silence, and the 
witch came out of the cave, holding in her hand 
a tiny vial. She handed it to the Princess, 
saying : 

" This bottle contains the charm which, if 
rightly taken, will produce the most wonderful 
voice in all the world, not only for an hour, but 
for all time. However, I will not deceive you," 



continued the witch, seeing that the Princess 
was beginning to thank her very warmly. " The 
charm is, after all, a worthless one ; for although 
any one may swallow it, it will have its magic 
effect only on one who has been always truth- 
ful; one little falsehood or deceit would quite 
destroy the charm." 

Thereupon the witch vanished, and the Prince 
and Princess turned toward the castle. 

The Princess was thinking how hard a thing 
it is that a person should have but one wish, 
when there are so many lovely things to be 
desired, and felt rather blue lest her wish had 
been quite wasted ; but she was of a hopeful 
disposition, and her spirits revived in answer to 
the Prince's words of gratitude. 

" Do you feel sure," asked the Princess, " that 
you have always been truthful ? " 

" So sure," said the Prince, " that I will now 
swallow the charm, and shall not try to sing a 
single note until to-morrow when I stand in the 
presence of the King ! " 

" Dear me ! " sighed the Princess, " what an 
advantage you have had in not being brought 
up at a rhyming court ! " 

As they parted the musical clocks chimed 
one. 

Next morning the festival began quite early, 
as there were many princes and many songs ; 
and good King Sol-Fa was extremely happy, 
for he could never hear too much music. 

Many of the singers acquitted themselves 
nobly, and just as the song of a beautiful dark- 
eyed prince was dying away in sweetest melody, 
the crimson- crested knight came forward, with 
no musical instrument in his hand. 

" And who comes here ? " asked the King, in 
surprise, " and what does he wish ? " 

The knight made bold answer: 

" I am King Fearless, and I love your daugh- 
ter. I would sing* a song to gain your favor." 

He smiled confidently at the Princess Madri- 
gal, who was trembling with fright, and throw- 
ing back his head, he sang a song of such 
power and sweetness that the King wept with 
delight, and the Princess almost fainted for joy, 
and the musical throne played an accompani- 
ment of such rare harmony that the King almost 
held his breath lest he should miss a single note. 

The magic song so touched the hearts of all 



B.] 



PRINCESS MADRIGALS WISH. 



79 



the hearers that they immediately forgot to feel 
envious, and had only the kindest wishes for 
the new king. 

Even Prince Roundelay, who had written a 
wonderful song of sixteen stanzas full of original 
words, in which the tenth syllable in the eighth 
line always rhymed with the third syllable in 
the fourth line, or the fourth syllable in the 



third' line (I have forgotten which), making, as 
he had thought, a startling effect, forgot all 
about it, and declared that he would go at 
once and begin the composition of a marriage- 
hymn of one hundred stanzas. 

But the happy Princess Madrigal said : 
" What 's the use ? Pray, dear Roundelay, 
don't take the trouble!" 




m*r 




B- 



RVr*n K. Btr*J^J»iiPf 




ker»e came a young ^peshman to college. 
When he hear>d that" he had to get" knowledge, 
Me .said, Goodness me ! 
Why.hocu can tni's be? — 
ty/naY a queep thing to do af~d college ! 




TAELE MAMM» 



by Gelett Burgess 

The Goops they lick their fingers, 
And the Goops they lick their knives; 
They spill their broth on the table-cloth; 

Oh, they lead untidy lives. 
The Goops they talk while eating, 

And loud and fast they chew. 
So that is why I am glad that I 

Am not a Goop. Are you? 




Vol. XXVI.— ii. 



81 




St. Nicholas wishes to aid its readers in 
choosing the old and new books that will be 
best for them to buy, borrow, or lend. It 
wishes to give the advice of old and young 
readers about the books that are of value, so 
that while there is yet leisure for books the 
time may be employed most delightfully and 
profitably. It will be glad to learn what young 
people prefer to read, and why they choose it ; 
it will try to aid those who desire to know of 
the best that has been written, and will also try 
to prevent the harmful waste of time caused by 
foolish reading, or by reading second-rate books, 
when a word of advice might tell them where to 
find first-rate books on the same subject. 

Lists of books relating to particular subjects 
will be published when such are requested, 
and the best advice will be sought and offered. 



It will not be forgotten that literature is the 
play-ground of the mind, as well as its treasury 
and drill-yard. Whatever it is right to think 
about, it is right to read about ; and on all 
subjects there are books which are good, others 
not so good, and at least a few that may be 
useless or worse than useless. 

St. Nicholas believes that the same boys 
and girls who put keen brain-work into their 
play will be glad to welcome training in their 
reading: training in choice of books, in methods 
of reading, and advice or caution where either 
is called for. 

. The editor will be glad to hear what books 
are in your own bookcases — what books you 
think of buying — what books you are seeking 
— what you think of those you own — what 
books you believe should be written for you. 



AN AUTHOR WORTH KNOWING. 



THERE is a society continually open to us, of people 
who will talk to us as long as we like, whatever our rank 
or occupation — talk to us in the best words they can 
choose, and with thanks if we listen to them. 

This court of the past differs from all living aris- 
tocracy in this : it is open to labor and to merit, but to 
nothing else. 

So writes one of the greatest of English 
writers on the subject of " Kings' Treasuries." 
He means by the phrase — can you guess what ? 

John Ruskin had a strange fancy for giving 
fairy-story names to many of his writings. Those 
who read him learn to like his fanciful touches ; 
but many who might read him with keen delight 
never learn what lies behind the curious titles of 
his books and his essays. 

The two paragraphs above quoted are from 
" Sesame and Lilies "—a title that means nothing 



to most boys and girls. But when you have 
looked into the book so called you will find 
that it contains two delightful and exquisitely 
written talks to the young. The first is to 
boys or young men, and is called " Of Kings' 
Treasuries "; the second is for the young women 
and girls, and is named " Of Queens' Gardens." 
" Sesame and Lilies " is a shorter way of ex- 
pressing the same two subjects. Sesame is our 
old friend of " Open, sesame ! " and means 
grain — that which supports life and makes 
fields fruitful ; lilies stand for all that beautifies 
life and makes home delightful. Ruskin pro- 
poses, then, to write about what is most needful 
and most delightful ; and in the beginning of 
the second talk he explains in simple terms just 
what is meant. He says that he is trying to 



82 



BOOKS AND READING FOR YOUNG FOLK. 



83 



tell how and what to read, and why to read. 
Very likely you will find, when you look at these 
essays, that Ruskin seems to wander ; that he 
is not always easy to understand; that he refers to 
many things of which you know little or nothing. 

But if you were to talk to very wise men and 
women you would be likely to come to the same 
conclusion ; and yet, you know that you can 
learn little from those who " talk down " to you, 
or from those who know no more than your- 
selves. As in talking with wiser persons, so in 
reading the best books you will at first miss 
much of the meaning ; yet the baby picks up 
language a phrase at a time, and a young 
reader will gradually find the greater writers 
more and more understandable, and more 
interesting, as time goes on. An old painter 
told a pupil : " Paint what you know, and what 
you don't know will become clear to you." 
Besides, there is a keen pleasure in trying your 
powers on a really deep book, and rich reward 
if you can conquer it. You may not interrupt 
the wise person who talks with you ; but the 
wise writer will wait silently while you " hunt 
up " a difficult word, or a mystifying allusion, 
by the aid of dictionary or encyclopedia. 

There is a spice in Ruskin's talk. " Sesame 
and Lilies" may sound sickly sweet to a vigor- 
ous boy or healthy girl ; but you will find that 
under this velvet glove Ruskin has an iron 
hand. In part of one lecture he says — to the 
English, of course (see if you think his words 
apply also to us who are now saying, " Blood 
is thicker than water ") : 

A nation cannot last as a money-making mob : it can- 
not with impunity — it cannot with existence — go on 
despising literature, despising science, despising art, 
despising nature, despising compassion, and concen- 
trating its soul on Pence. Do you think these harsh or 
wild words ? Have patience with me but a little longer. 
I will prove their truth to you, clause by clause. 

Nothing milk-and-watery about that, is there ? 
Now, how does he undertake to prove his case ? 
As to literature, he says (in part) : 

We talk of food for the mind as of food for the body : 
now, a good book contains such food inexhaustibly ; it 
is a provision for life, and for the best part of us ; yet 
how long most people would look at the best book be- 
fore they would give the price of a large turbot for it ! 



As to science, he tells an interesting story that 
you must read for yourselves, showing that a 
rich man grudging fourpence for a rarity is a 
fair type of the British public. As for art, 
Ruskin claims that the British do not know 
what they own, nor regret in the least the 
destruction of foreign masterpieces. 

And so the lecture goes on, stirring you, 
delighting your taste, amusing you with humor, 
irritating you with its tone of superiority — until 
you will feel as if you had been falked to by 
the wisest, jolliest, most serious, and most ir- 
ritating man you ever saw. Don't skip the 
prefaces or the notes. Here is a bit from a 
preface : 

I would urge upon every young man, as the beginning 
of his due and wise provision for his household, to obtain 
as soon as he can, by the severest economy, a restricted, 
serviceable, and steadily — however slowly — increasing 
series of books for use through life ; making his little 
library, of all the furniture in his room, the most studied 
and decorative piece ; every volume having its assigned 
place, like a little statue in its niche ; and one of the 
earliest and strictest lessons to the children of the house 
being how to turn the pages of their own literary pos- 
sessions lightly and deliberately, with no chance of tear- 
ing or dogs' ears. This is my notion of the founding of 
" Kings' Treasuries." 

Do you care for these bits from " Sesame and 
Lilies " ? If you do, read it all, own it, and 
study it. Much that is said you will agree with ; 
some of it you will not believe, perhaps. But 
where you differ, find out whether you err or 
Ruskin is wrong. 

Let the writer tell you a bit of personal ex- 
perience : 

When a boy I found an odd volume of Rus- 
kin's "Modern Painters "'in a village library. 
Twenty-one of his books are now at my elbow 
as I write, and I have read all of them more 
than once, many of them over and over again. 
They have brought me, unmeasured pleasure, 
and — so far as I know — not one bit of harm. 
They have taught me to see more beauty in 
nature, more good in mankind, the errors in 
some things I believe untrue, and much honest 
wisdom in John Ruskin. 

Is n't this English author a friend worth 
making ? 

Christopher Valentine. 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



Editorial Note. 

Several kindly correspondents have written the 
editor that the general idea of "The Endless Story," 
printed in the August number of St. Nicholas, is not 
new. 

The tale is, of course, an old story retold, — and very 
cleverly retold, — with additional touches, by Frances 
Courtenay Baylor (Mrs. Barnum). Indeed, when for- 
warding her manuscript to the magazine, she wrote that 
she had heard the story told by her husband, who 
heard it from his father, "who got it," she added, "no- 
body knew where." 

Our readers will agree that the story was worthy of 
the new and bright setting given by the writer, who 
never thought of claiming originality for the plot. 



Westward Ho, Hawera, 
Taranaki, New Zealand. 

My Dear St. Nicholas : This is the first time I 
have written to you, though I have taken your magazine 
for two years. I have never seen a letter from this part 
of New Zealand before. The stories I like are " Master 
Skylark," "Two Biddicut Boys," and "The Lakerim 
Athletic Club." 

My sister Tui, my brother Jack, and I have a little 
museum of our own in the garden. We have a good 
many curiosities, among which are the wonderful vege- 
table caterpillars peculiar to New Zealand. They are 
found in great quantities near the Rotorua hot springs. 
The caterpillar seems to take root in the ground, though 
the theory is that it eats the seed of the poisonous tn-tu 
plant, and when the caterpillar dies the seed grows into 
a tu-tu bush. Gradually the caterpillar changes into 
wood. Yours truly, Gwen Mason. 



Pine Lake, San Bernardino Co., Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am spending the summer in 
Bear Valley, which is in the San Bernardino Mountains, in 
the Sierra Madre Range. We only get our mail twice a 
week, and I am always very anxious for the St. Nicholas 
to come. When we came up there were wild roses all 
around the cabins, and there are very great tall pine- 
trees all around. Bear Valley is 6500 feet high. The 
water from Pine Lake goes down to the valley and is 
used to irrigate the orange-trees in the large orchards 
there. There are lots of little chipmunks, and one fell 
into an empty jar, and we made a little cage for it, and 
we named it " Porto Rico " ; the next morning we let it 
go. I have a brother Ned. He is ten years old, and I 
am eleven. We have a dog, "Shep," and a cat named 
"Manila." There is a big herd of burros that go by 
often. They are used to go up and down on the trail, 
and to carry packs. 

I live in Redlands. I enjoy reading the St. Nicho- 
las very much. I am yours sincerely, 

Lois Partridge Lehman. 



standing on the back porch, asked her if she had n't 

brought her something from the city. Cousin B 

reprimanding her on her past conduct, the negro said, 

"Law, Miss B , don't judge anybody by de future 

done passed. Judge 'em by de come." 

Your faithful reader, H. G. B. 



Tunica, Miss. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little Southern girl, and 
do not know what I would do without you. My sisters 
and I get you for a Christmas present. My favorite 
story is "Denise and Ned Toodles." I wished it would 
never end ; and sometimes I wish I had a little pony like 
" Ned," and some time I may. But my sister May has a 
little dog. He can sit in a chair and shake hands with you. 

We all enjoy reading the letters, and hope to see mine 
in the St. Nicholas, so I can read it. I read about the 
Sewing Society and am going to get one up. I did not 
go away last summer. I hope that the St. Nicholas 
will continue to be my Christmas present a long time. 
I am your loving reader, Josie E. Brigham. 



East Orange, N. J. 

My dear Companion : For such I claim the right to 
call you, having had your charming magazine for nearly 
eight years. And what a pleasure you have been to my 
four brothers and sisters and me ! 

Your " Letter-box " is especially interesting, as the let- 
ters come from all parts of the world, and contain many 
facts of interest. 

I have quite a nice plan, which I hope will meet with 
the approval of some of your correspondents. For two 
or three years I have been collecting from all kinds of 
magazines, in fact from everything except newspapers, 
pictures of noted men and women, of ancient as well as 
modern times, until now I have over three hundred pic- 
tures. Among them are many duplicates, which, I 
thought, some' of the readers of the St. Nicholas would 
like to exchange for others. I am making a specialty 
of the rulers of different countries, and would like to ex- 
change my pictures for pictures of some of the royal 
families of Europe. I would especially like to make 
exchanges with foreigners, as then I could send them 
some of our noted men. Hoping this will meet with 
your approval, and with long life to St. Nicholas. 

I remain ever your true friend, 

Lavinia B. De Forest. 



Dear St. Nicholas: I am a Baltimore boy visiting 
in the South. About a week after I reached my uncle's 
farm, an old negro woman (a renter), seeing my cousin 



Minto, New South Wales. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little Australian girl 
who has taken you for ten years, but never written to 
you before. I live in Sydney, but am now staying up 
the country. Do the ants in America build chimneys 
to keep off the rain? They do in the Blue Mountains. 
When there is going to be a wet winter they all build 
hollow tubes of grass, woven round and round. They 
are about a quarter of an inch across and sometimes six 
inches long. They are fixed upright above the ant-holes, 
and so when the ground is flooded, the water cannot get 
in. Is it not clever of the ants ? 

We have a good many pets at home, a pony, six dogs, 
many kinds of pigeons, a pink-and-white cockatoo, and 
two painted finches. We have goldfish, too, if they can 
fairly be counted among our pets. 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



85 



A short time ago I had a sweet little paddy-melon, 
called " Lepus." A paddy-melon is something like a 
wallaby, which is something like a kangaroo; but this 
can give you no idea of how sweet and pretty Lepus was. 
He was very tame, and would nestle in my arms. He 
had the dearest little way imaginable of putting his front 
paws together in a pleading attitude. He looked as in- 
nocent as a cherub. It was impossible to think he had 
ever hurt anything in the wide world, but I am sorry to 
say that the day before I got him, he had killed a young 
rock-wallaby that was shut up with him. Lepus was 
young and delicate, poor little thing, and he died of cold. 
Your interested reader, 

Dorothea Mackellar. 



Cheltenham, England. 

Dear St. Nicholas : Although I have taken you for 
five years, I have only written to you once before. I en- 
joy reading you very much, and especially the " Letter- 
box." As I have not seen a letter from a girl in the Chel- 
tenham Ladies' College, I thought I would write to you. 
I am an American girl of fourteen, and have been in Eng- 
land for one year. I like the college very much. There 
are about nine hundred or more girls there. I spent 
the summer holidays at a Lincolnshire seaside place. 
The roads were very lovely for cycling. I like cycling 
very much, and I have ridden for five years. 

We have two very funny little dogs — a dachshund 
called " Matty," and a pug called " Billy." When Billy 
is hungry, and wants something to eat, he always goes to 
a bell which is on the side-table, and rings it till one pays 
attention to him. 

The other day, as I was cycling by the seaside, I asked 
a little peasant girl whether she would like to go to 
America, and she said, " No ; I reckon there are all wild 
beasts there." It is very funny what curious ideas some 
English country girls have of America. 

I enjoy St. Nicholas very much, and I do not know 
what I should do without it. I like " Denise and Ned 
Toodles," "The Lakerim Athletic Club," and "Two 
Biddicut Boys " very much. 

Good-by, dear St. Nicholas ! Long life to you. 
From your enthusiastic reader, 

Rachel Workman. 



Knoxville, Tenn. 

Dear St. Nicholas : We thought you would like a 
letter from two little Tennessee girls. We read you all 
the time, and enjoy you very much. 

We noticed in one number a picture of the cruiser 
" Columbia," and were glad to see it, because one of us 
has a cousin on the Columbia. 

We were very much interested in the American 
war with Spain ; in fact, we think all true American little 
girls ought to have been. 

We suppose you know General McKee ? He has a 
great number of soldiers stationed in Knoxville, Ten- 



Your little friends, 



Rebecca Dow, 
Carrie Lee Patton. 



Ravenswood, III. 

Dkar St. Nicholas: I don't believe I ever saw a 
letter from Ravenswood in your" Letter-box." It is a 
very pretty suburb of Chicago. 

This summer our family went out to visit my grandma, 
who lives about sixty miles west of Des Moines, Iowa. 
We came home by way of Omaha, and, of course, while 
we were in that city we saw the Fair. 



The Omaha Fair is not as big as the World's Fair held 
in 1893 at Chicago, but is very nice. 

The exhibit in the Government Building is the nicest, 
and I think it nicer than at the Chicago Fair, because 
there are models of the war-ships used in the late war. 
It also has the figures of American soldiers, dressed as 
soldiers in the different United States wars. The exhibit 
in the Mines and Mining Building is very fine. We had 
a very enjoyable time. 

I like the St. Nicholas so much. I think " Denise 
and Ned Toodles " is a fine story, and was sorry when it 
ended. Wishing you much success, I am 
Your thirteen-year-old reader, 

Marie Hammond. 



Indian Summer. 

A SOFT gray sky, some purple heather, 
With yellow grasses slender and tall ; 

The sluggish stream half asleep doth seem : 
The old world dreams in the mellow fall. 

Oh, day of days ! Lo, the purple haze 
O'ershadows the distant mountain-tops — 

Silencing all ! Hark ! a late bird's call 

Is borne on the air, grows faint, and stops. 

The red sun creeps toward the western steeps ; 

Soft shadows fall, stars gleam o'erhead. 
The world grows still, as the old world will 

When a dream has fled and a day is dead. 

Nell J. H — 



Bogota, Republic of Colombia, 
South America. 
My dear St. Nicholas : I have been reading the 
St. NICHOLAS for several years, and I like the stories 
very much, such as the "Two Biddicut Boys," "Denise 
and Ned Toodles," "The Lakerim Athletic Club," and 
many others. Your stories are almost all about life in 
North America, and to us are very interesting ; but I 
think that your readers there would enjoy a story about 
the life here in this Spanish-speaking, Spanish-customed 
country. I enjoyed the one about the "Jaguar and the 
Caymans," because it is from this country. Once I was 
sitting in a little boat near the shore of the Magdalena 
River, fishing with a negro boy, and a woman was on 
the bank near by, washing clothes, and suddenly a man 
called out, " Cayman, cayman/" The woman got away 
just when the nose of the animal appeared on the shore 
where she had been. We pulled to the shore, because the 
animal was very near us, and we were afraid he might tip 
our boat over. We called the owner of the house, and 
he came with his rifle ; but just as he was about to shoot 
the cayman (alligator), the astute animal disappeared 
under the water. 

Your constant reader, Eddie R. Candor. 



MY PET PONY. 

{A true story. ) 

By L. S. F. 

I AM a little girl ten years old. My home is in the 
country, and we have many pets; but there is one dearer 
to me than all the rest put together. He is my pony, 
" Fair Hills." He is named after our home, which looks 
out upon beautiful hills, and my grandma called our 
home "Fair Hills." After my pony was broken to the 
saddle I rode him to school, and he knows me so well 



86 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



and is so gentle that I cin do almost anything with him. 
I bring him down on the lawn sometimes to eat the 
grass, and he is so kind and quiet that I can take his 
halter off and go in the house or anywhere and trust him 
not to run away. He is very small, being only a yard 
high ; he is black,with a little white star in the middle of 
his forehead. When he was being trained to ride, the 
coachman brought him up the front steps and on the 
porch, and then down again. One day I thought I would 
give my mother a surprise ; so I brought Fair Hills up 
the front steps on the porch, and then in our front hall, 
and up two more flights of stairs and into my mother's 
bedroom, and I rode him all around the house. And 
then I brought him up to a mirror and let him look at 
himself; it was very funny to see him sniff at his reflec- 
tion. In a little while I brought him down again, and at 
first I thought it would be hard for him to get down, but 
he walked down as easily as any person. In winter he 
has long, shaggy hair, and looks like a little bear. When 
it is spring, he sheds his winter coat, and he is nearly as 
soft as sealskin. I have brought him into many other 
places. Once I brought him into a bicycle manufactory, 
and another time I took him into a house in Hopland. 
He is very affectionate, and I think he knows when I kiss 
and hug him, and I think he knows, too, when I scold him 
and shake my finger at him, he winks his eyes at me. I 
ride him to school every day, and I think he likes it better 
than I do, because I turn him loose and let him eat the 
grass in the yard. He has to walk up stone steps to get 
into the yard. There are thirteen in the school that I go 
to, and all the children that go there like Fair Hills very 
much. My brother rides to school, too, and he rides a 
pony called " Hiawatha." My father has seventy-three 
ponies all together, but Fair Hills is my favorite. I 
don't know what I will do when I grow too big for Fair 
Hills, but I shall always keep him as a pet. 



Alexandria, Egypt. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I enjoy reading the "Letter- 
box " very much, and perhaps other children would like to 
hear something about Alexandria. I have lived all my 
life in Egypt, except the summer months. We leave 
for Europe in May or June, but already then it is so hot 
that we do not know what to do with ourselves. Last 
winter was exceptionally cold. We have not had many 
khamsins yet. On a bad khamsin day everybody stays 
indoors with shut windows, as it is much hotter out 
than in. It is a hot, hot wind that blows from the 
desert, whirling burning sand along with it. In the 
evening swarms of little flies come in, attracted by the 
lights, and die all over your paper if you are writing a 
letter. The dampness is another very disagreeable thing 
in Alexandria, which is not dry like Cairo. But the 
real plague of Egypt is the black beetle. It is a con- 
tinual fight to keep them from swarming all over the 
house. Some are enormous and even have wings. We 
call all the natives Arabs, though really there are many 
tribes — for instance, the Bedouins of the desert, who 
pitch their dirty tents among the country houses of the 
Europeans. Whole families live in one tent. Some 
gentlemen pay the chief Bedouin of the family not to 
rob them and to prevent others from doing so. I was 
told once that they descend from some Greeks of the 
time of Alexander the Great. They keep up family 
feuds as the ancient Greeks did. They have sheep, 
fowls, donkeys, camels, and buffalos (which they call 
giamoose). In fact, they live the same kind of life as the 
patriarchs in the Old Testament, wandering about with 



their flocks and herds. The women wear black robes 
and bright-colored sashes ; the men a sort of burnoose 
folded gracefully about them. We go sometimes to 
sketch their tents, and the children come to watch 
and ask for "bakshish." The Arab men wear a scanty 
long skirt of different colors, and the red fez called 
tarboosh, or a turban. Usually they go barefooted. 
Some of the women wear a long robe, with glass or 
brass bangles on their wrists and ankles ; others a sort 
of scarf turned over their heads, and a veil covering their 
faces below the eyes, which is tied behind their ears ; 

They wear a plait of cotton mixed with their hair, 
stain their nails red and their lower eyelids black. The 
women of the harems wear black silk clothes with a white 
muslin yashmak. They never go out except carefully 
veiled. The carriages they go in have the blinds drawn. 
On the railway there are special compartments in which 
they are locked in. At the theater they have before 
their box a wooden latticework so that they cannot be 
seen. At the weddings of the lower classes the furniture is 
paraded round the town on carts, and in the evening the 
bride is brought home by torch-light, while little street 
Arabs dance about to the sound of a fearful band. 

Their funerals are very singular. They used to throw 
the body over their shoulders and take it to be buried. 
Now they are not allowed to do that. They put the 
body on a kind of stretcher and cover it with a piece of 
cloth. At the head of the corpse they fix a stick of wood, 
on which is put the fez of the deceased, if he is a man. 
Four Arabs carry this, and on the way any passer-by 
offers to help, for they say that the person that is dead 
prays for each one that carries him. A crowd follows, 
wailing, shouting, and making a frantic noise. The 
women wave their handkerchiefs, pull their hair, and 
make a funny sound with the tongue. There are special 
women paid to do this, and often have I seen them 
laughing at the same time. The cemetery is not in- 
closed, and the tombs are made of stone, with a pole 
sticking up on one side. Moslems shave all over their 
heads, except one tuft, which they leave for Mohammed to 
catch hold of and drag them into heaven by. Their 
Sabbath day is Friday. They have two Ramadans, or 
fasts, the great and the little. A gun is fired at sunrise 
and sunset; between these guns they may not eat nor 
drink. They make up for it by feasting and rioting in 
the open air all night. The longest lasts about thirty 
days, and it must be dreadful in the hot weather when 
they cannot drink a drop of water all day long. The 
great Ramadan is kept to commemorate a day when 
Mohammed lost his camel. He prayed all day long to 
find it, and at sunset he discovered that he was sitting 
on it ! They do not know exactly which day of the 
month it was, so they fast thirty to forty days so as 
to hit the right one. The fast ends when the moon is 
seen reflected in a certain well. The event is telegraphed 
all over, guns are fired, and the great Bairam, or feast, 
sets in. 

There are plenty more things I could tell about the 
Arabs, but must not make my letter any longer. 

Yours truly, Tenny Casulli. 



We thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them: Armand C. Lang- 
don, Leila Mogle, John S. Dunham, Goldie Skinner, 
Ethel R. Anthony, Miriam F. A., R. Seymour King, 
Hester W. Towle, Jennie Mae Burdick, Edith A. Page, 
Hugh V. Monahan, Jr., M. B. W., Leila Tucker, Eliza- 
beth and Rysam. 




ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER. 



Numerical Enigma. 

When by night the frogs are croaking, kindle but a torch's fire, 

Ha ! how soon they all are silent ! Thus truth silences the liar. 

Riddle. 



Usage. 
Cross-word Enigma 



Aster. 



Connected Squares. 
Stunt. 5. Teeth. II. 



I. 1. Twist, 2. Waste. 3. 
Sweet. 2. Weave. 3. Eaten. 
5. Tenth. III. 1. Heart. 2. Eider. 3. Adieu. 4. 
Trust. IV. 1. Hoist. 2. Otter. 3. Italy. 4. Sells. 

Concealed Double Acrostic. Primals, Foliage; finals, Oc- 
tober. Cross-words: 1. Fandango. 2. Optic. 3. Least. 4. Idaho. 
5. Adverb. 6. Gelatine. 7. Eager. 



Issue. 4. 
4. Event. 
Reels. 5. 
5- Tryst. 



Naval Acrostic. Dewey. 1. Drum. 2. Epaulet. 3. Waves. 
4. Eagle. 5. Yawl. 
Charade. Esculent. 
Double Acrostic. Primals, George Eliot; finals, Middlemarch. 

I. Gleam. 2. Elemi. 3. Oread. 4. Razed. 5. Grail. 6. Erase. 
7. Etham. 8. Llama. 9. Idler. 10. Optic, n. Teach. 

An Autumn Sketch, i. Shelley. 2. Holmes. 3. Sand. 4. 
Winter. 5. Black. 6. Browne. 7. Field. 8. Gray. 9. Chambers. 
10. Coles. 11. Burns. 12. Cooke. 13. Crabbe. 14. Reade. 

Word-squares. I. 1. Rent. 2. Ever. 3. Nero. 4. Troy. 

II. 1. Pine. 2. Idea. 3. Near. 4. Earn. III. 1. Lamp. 2. 
Abel. 3. Menu. 4. Plum. 

Illustrated Primal Acrostic. Hobson. 1. Helmet. 2. Ori- 
flamme. 3. Bayonet. 4. Sword. 5. Oar. 6. Navy. 

To our Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the August Number were received, before August 15th, from "Dondy Small." 

Answers to Puzzles in the August Number were received, before August 15th, from "Empress Mignonette," 8 — Paul Reese, 
10 — Agnes S. Lathrop, 1 — Ella and Maude, 1 — Majorie R. and Uncle Ted, 8 — Sigoumey Fay Nininger, 1 1 — Mable M. Johns, 1 1 
— Margaret H. Aiken, 2 — Bessie Thayer and Company, 9 — " Two Canucks," 2 — " Maple Leaf Trio," 6. 



KIDDLE. 

Among the birds I 'm at the head, 
Yet smaller than the wren or linnet ; 

And though important quite to bread, 
You would not like to find me in it. 

Our great republic needs my aid ; 

To that I ever shall be loyal ; 
And still my homage must be paid 

To our dear queen of lineage royal. 

What though in slumber I am deep 
When all the world is up and doing? 

I 'm praised -by poets while I keep 
With faithfulness my work pursuing. 

ANNA M. PRATT. 

PROGRESSIVE NUMERAL ENIGMAS. 

1. The sight of 1 2-3-4-5-6 always makes my 
thoughts 1-2-3-4-5-6 to heaven. 

2. I have asked for I 2-3-4 5-6-7-8 times; I wish 
to draw a map of the 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 mountains. 

3. That is the leader of the I-2-3-4 5-6-7-8 ; the 
one with the I -2-3-4-5-6-7-8 around his head. 

4. Is that piece of 1-2-3-4-5 for the 1-2-3 4~S f° r 
the leg ? 

5. " He brought 1-2 3-4 awfully plain little ring," 
said Nellie. "Was n't he 1-2-3-4? " 

6. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9 you will be sorry you stayed 
1-2-3-4 5-6-7-8-9 I told you to go. 

7. When he saw the 1-2-3-4 5-6-7-8 said the blood 
seemed to I-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 in his veins. 



8. It is of no 1-2-3-4-5 for you to wear I 2-3-4-5. 

9. The picture represents him 1-2 3-4-5-6-7-8-9 the 
order 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9 the troops to Manila. 

10. I 1-2-3-4-5-6 you, you may be 1-2 3-4-5-6 as if 
you saw it. 

11. I 1-2-3-4-5 to think it is useless to 1-2-3 4-5 
this way. 

12. If you will 1-2 3-4 the wharf this afternoon you 
will see which boat will 1-2-3-4. M. E. FLOYD. 

CENTRAL ACROSTIC. 

All of the words described contain the same number 
of letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below 
another, the central letters will spell the name of a very 
famous man. 

CROSS -WORDS: I. An underground channel. 2. 
Haughtiness. 3. Foolish. 4. Massive. 5. Salt. 6. 
Vessels. 7. A carved stone. 8. Periods. 9. Contends. 
10. Weapons. 11. A beautiful river. 12. Languishes. 
13. A large pill. 14. General direction. 15. An inlet 
of the Gulf of Mexico. Margaret rich. 



CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. 

My first is in Burns, but not in Hood ; 
My second, in Shakspere, not in Froude ; 
My third is in Spenser and also in Greene; 
My fourth is in Sterne, sarcastic and keen ; 
My fifth is in Chaucer ; but look right hard 
And find my sixth, in Kipling, the bard. 
My whole is one, fearless and bold, 
Who braved great dangers manifold. 
Now no one can his courage rue, 
But give him praise that is his due. 

"BLACK JACK AND FIGHTING BOB." 



87 



THE RIDDLE-BOX. 




ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE. 

Each of the four pictures in the upper row may be 
described by a word of seven letters. Take three letters 
from each of the four words, rearrange the remaining 
four letters, and the four new words (which form a 
word-square) will describe the four pictures in the lower 
row. F. H. W. 

CONCEALED DIAMOND. 



• 3 



9 • 



Cross-words: i. Part of a column. 2. A crown. 
3. Brings to the remembrance of. 4. A town of Sicily 
not far from the Strait of Messina. 5. Vicious. 6. 
Despised. 7. The act of sending. 

The letters represented by the figures from I to 12 
will spell a pleasant season of the year. F. S. F. 

RHYMED WORD-SQUARE. 

My first is a college for football known; 
My second, an isle with palms o'ei grown ; 
A garden with my third is made ; 
And my last to ray first afford their shade. 

FLORENCE AND FLOSSIE. 

ZIOZAG. 

All of the words described contain the same number 
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed 
one below another in the order here given, the zigzag, 
beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell the 
name of an English poet. 

Cross-words : 1. Iron blocks upon which metals 
are shaped. 2. Large baskets of wickerwork. 3. To 
beat with successive blows. 4. Scarfs. 5. To make a 
low, continued noise. 6. A vessel in which substances 
are pounded. 7. Systems of religious beliefs. 8. Not- 



withstanding that. 9. Something that has short turns or 
angles. 10. Disgraces. II. Small streams of water. 
12. Part of a coat. 13. Certain nuts. 14. Collections 
of visible vapor. 15. To make furious. 16. Adequate 
to meet the want. "jersey quartette." 



A NOVEMBER CHARADE. 

My first, a royal personage, 
May some day be a king; 
My second many, many pounds, 
Will make the balance swing. 
My whole is a historic town — 
I shall not tell you where ; 
If you 're afraid of tigers 
You 'd. better not go there. 

FLORENCE AND FLOSSIE. 



I. 



WORD-SQUARES. 

I. Part of a horse. 2. Ground. 3. Close. 



Parts of the body. 

II. i. Colorless. 2. Old. 3. 
pool. 



A mineral. 4. A whirl- 
"the puzzlers." 



CONCEALED DOUBLE ACROSTIC. 

Look carefully and find revealed 
November's turkeys here concealed. 
CROSS-WORDS: 

1. If I efface my meager wits 

'T will rend this puzzle into bits. 

2. Now patching puzzles wastes my time, 
Though I am used to cobbling rhyme. 

3. So, while my nervous system shatters, 
I '11 give this in its normal tatters. 

4. And if you find well-sewed repair, 
Please stick a pin to show me where. 

5. 'T will be a most delightful way 
To spend a dark and drizzly day. 

6. Then if the meaning is not plain 
I '11 try our Saxon words again. 

ANNA M. PRATT. 



THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK. 







MEANTIME, COUNT REYNAURD AND PIERROT TROTTED GAILY 
ALONG THE ROAD TO AIX." 

(SEE PAGE 92.) 



ST. NICHOLAS. 



Vol. XXVI. 



DECEMBER, 1898. 



No. 2. 




THE-PAGE-OF-COUNT-REYNAURD 

BY-EVALEEN-5TEIN 



" Pierrot ! Pierrot ! are thy saddle-bags 
well fastened ? And how fare my lutestrings ? 
Have a care lest some of them snap with jog- 
ging over this rough bit of road. And, Pierrot, 
next time we pass a fine periwinkle thou hadst 
best jump down and pluck a fresh bunch for my 
Barbo's ears." 

The speaker, Count Reynaurd of Poitiers, 
patted the fluffy black mane of his horse Barbo, 
and loosened the great nosegay of blue flowers 
tucked into his harness and nodding behind his 
ears. Barbo was gaily decked out; long sprays 
of myrtle dangled from his saddle-bow, and a 
wreath of periwinkle and violets hung round 
his neck ; for the Count Reynaurd was not only 
a noble lord, but also a famous troubadour. 
That is to say, he spent his time riding from 
castle to castle, playing on his lute or viol, and 
singing beautiful songs of his own making. 

Copyright, 1898, by The Century Co 
9 1 



In the days when he lived, which was many 
hundred years ago, there were numberless such 
poet-singers strolling over the sunny land of 
France, and especially that part which lies to 
the south and is called Provence. Many of the 
greatest of these kept little pages to wait upon 
them and carry their musical instruments, and 
so it was that Pierrot rode a little white palfrey 
by the side of Count Reynaurd, and carried his 
lute, and gathered the periwinkle for making 
gay bouquets to decorate Barbo's ears. 

It was May-time, and they were journeying 
through the lovely land of Provence, which was 
quite enough to make any one happy, and the 
count and Pierrot were fairly brimming over 
with good humor as they rode along. They 
were bound for the old town of Aix, where in 
those days there stood the palace of the good 
king Rene, whom everybody loved. 

All rights reserved. 



9 2 



THE PAGE OF COUNT REYNAURD. 



[Dec 



Now, King Rene himself was a troubadour, al- 
though he could not wander about overthe coun- 
try as did the others, but was obliged to stay in 
Aix and govern his people. Yet he spent hours 
and hours every day writing poetry and making 
up music by which to sing it, and he delighted 
above all things to gather about him all who 
could finger a lute-string or sing a merry song. 
There were always dozens of fine troubadours 
staying with King Rene, and still he was never 
weary of adding to their number, and of seek- 
ing out the best in France; and so it chanced 
he had heard much of the great skill of Pierrot's 
master and also of another noble lord, the Count 
William of Auvergne, the friends of each of 
whom boasted that none other in all France was 
worthy to be called the champion of the trou- 
badours. And so Rene had sent messages to 
both inviting them to come and visit him, and 
to hold a contest of song; saying he would give 
a beautiful collar of jewels to the one who sang 
the best. 

In response to this invitation, the Count Wil- 
liam was already in Aix, having come the day 
before, after a long journey from his castle in 
Auvergne, and he was now resting, awaiting 
the Count Reynaurd, and pleasing himself in 
thinking of the glory of winning the jeweled 
collar, for he fully expected by and by to carry 
it off as his prize. 

Meantime, Count Reynaurd and Pierrot 
trotted gaily along the road to Aix. The 
almond-trees were in flower, and from one of 
them Pierrot had broken a little switch covered 
with dewy blossoms, and with this he now and 
then tapped the flank of his little white palfrey, 
who would then kick up her heels and frisk 
along at a rollicking pace. Pierrot's own legs 
looked lovely in party-colored hose, the right 
being a beautiful pearl-gray and the left a deli- 
cate robin's-egg blue ; his doublet was a pink 
silk embroidered in silver and slashed with white 
satin, and on his head he wore a jaunty little 
cap with a long feather. He was a handsome 
little fellow, with bright eyes and dark curls, and 
as gay and lively as the great black crickets 
that live in Provence. 

His master, Count Reynaurd, looked very 
stately in a suit of plum-colored velvet, with a 
collar of fine lace fastened with a golden violet, 



which he often felt to be sure he had not lost it 
and that it was still tightly clasped. For the 
gold violet was a prize that the count had just 
won in the town of Toulouse, whither, every 
May-time, all the troubadours used to go and 
hold great contests, called the Games of Flow- 
ers. At these games each one sang a song, 
and the most skilful received prizes, a violet 
of gold and a rose of silver being the most 
wished for. 

So Count Reynaurd was very proud and 
happy thinking how finely the violet would 
serve to clasp the collar of jewels he expected 
to win from King Rene, and he smiled pleas- 
antly when Pierrot called out to him, " See, my 
lord! are not those the high towers of Aix? " 

Count Reynaurd looked ahead, and, sure 
enough, far in the distance rose the city of Aix. 
They set their horses a-galloping, and in a 
little while found themselves riding through its 
quaint, crooked streets, till they reached the 
great square where stood the king's palace. 
This was a very beautiful one, strangely built, 
with two ancient round towers and a wide 
porch with many pillars; all about it was a 
lovely garden full of orange and acacia trees, 
and sweet roses and jessamines clambered over 
everything. 

Count Reynaurd and Pierrot dismounted at 
the palace gate, and were led into the great 
hall where sat King Rene, wearing a blue robe 
embroidered in bright flowers. He was an old 
man, and his hair and long beard were quite 
white, but he was gay and happy-hearted as 
Pierrot himself. When he saw the Count Rey- 
naurd enter the hall, he arose from his throne 
and came down and hugged and kissed him, 
and patted Pierrot kindly. For Rene was not 
like most kings, who are very particular to 
have everybody about them as stiff and un- 
comfortable as possible. 

Then presently the Count William, who had 
been walking in the garden, hearing of the 
arrival of Reynaurd, came hurrying in, his own 
little page Henri following close upon his heels. 
He greeted Count Reynaurd very cordially, for 
he had often met him at the games of Toulouse, 
and the little pages Henri and Pierrot soon 
became the best of friends also. 

As the day was now drawing to a close, the 



THE PAGE OF COUNT REYNAURD. 



93 



good old king invited them all into the ban- 
quet-hall, where were already gathered num- 
bers of troubadours and minnesingers, who 
were the troubadours of Germany. Some were 
eating and drinking; some were telling stories 
or making up poetry; while still others were 
playing on all sorts of musical instruments, and 
were altogether having the jolliest kind of time. 

Reynaurd and Pierrot were very hungry after 
their long ride, and so were glad to sit down at 
one of the long tables while the king's sene- 
schals brought in roasted boar's-head and 
venison pasties, and large baskets of the fine 
white bread of Provence and of brown march- 
panes, which were nice little old-time French 
cookies full of raisins and covered with nuts 
and poppy-seeds. 

Pierrot waited upon his master very prettily, 
and then feasted upon the many dainties to his 
heart's content, all the while listening with de- 
light to the gay songs of the troubadours and 
minnesingers, till by and by his curly head began 
to nod, and he fell asleep while still munching 
a marchpane, and slept so soundly that he had 
to be shaken when it was time to go upstairs, 
where a little cot was spread for him close to 
the great canopied bed for the Count Reynaurd. 

So the days passed merrily on, and still, time 
after time, when King Rene fixed a day for 
the contest between the Counts Reynaurd and 
William, they would plead that they were not 
ready, for they had grown so lazy and pampered 
by the life they led in the palace that they 
dawdled away their time in idle pleasure. 

At last the king grew impatient, and de- 
clared that he would shut them up, each in his 
own rooms, where they must stay for ten days 
composing their songs; and he commanded 
that then they should appear before him, when 
he would judge their skill and award the prize. 

So Count William and Count Reynaurd were 
escorted up the palace stairway to their cham- 
ber doors, and each agreed, upon his knightly 
honor, which was a very solemn vow indeed, 
that he would not set foot beyond his threshold 
until the day appointed by the good king ; and 
it became the duty of Pierrot and Henri to 
bring food and wait upon their noble masters. 

But let us see how those two masters fared 
in their song-making. In the apartments of 



Henri's lord, things were going far from 
smoothly ; for, although Count William was 
really a very accomplished troubadour, yet 
when he found himself shut up and obliged to 
make up a song, not a word could he write. 
Indeed, poets declare that this is very often the 
way with them; most beautiful verses will sud- 
denly pop into their heads, sometimes in the 
middle of the night, so that they have to jump 
up in the dark to get pencil and paper to 
write them down before they forget; while, if 
they have paper and pen ready, so contrary 
are their wits that they cannot write a word ! 
And so it was with the Count William. 

He fussed and fumed, but not even the least 
little bit of a rhyme could he make; and the 
more he wished it, the more impossible it 
seemed to become. He strode up and down 
the room; he snatched his paper and tore it 
into bits; and then he scolded Henri till the 
poor little fellow tiptoed out in his little pointed 
velvet shoes, and fled to the garden, where he 
sat down under an orange-tree, and consoled 
himself with some fresh marchpanes. 

Meantime, across the corridor from Henri's 
master things were going on very differently 
with the noble Reynaurd and Pierrot. As 
luck would have it, this count was getting on 
famously. He had composed a most beautiful 
piece of poetry, and lovely music by which to 
sing it, and was altogether so pleased with 
himself and all the world that he snapped 
his fingers joyously, and fetched Pierrot a 
playful slap on the shoulder, crying, " Hey, 
Pierrot, just listen to this!" And then in a 
loud voice he began to sing. 

Pierrot was so delighted that he clapped his 
hands, and declared he was quite sure his lord 
would win the prize, and shame the Count 
William into everlasting silence. Then he 
helped himself to a couple of great golden 
oranges from a basket he had just brought to 
Reynaurd, and strutted out to air himself, and 
to boast to Henri of his master's superior skill. 

Meantime, Count Reynaurd sang over and 
over his new song, each time roaring it out 
louder and louder, till his lungs fairly ached. 

While all this was going on, the Count Wil- 
liam, in a great rage, was still striding up and 
down the floor of his chamber, which happened 



94 



THE PAGE OF COUNT REYNAURD. 



[Dec. 



to be across the corridor and at no great dis- 
tance from that of the happy Reynaurd. And as 
it happened, also, when Pierrot had gone out he 
had forgotten to quite close the door behind 
him — a fact which Count Reynaurd had not 
noticed. The door was very thick and heavy, 
and fitted badly between the stone walls, so it 
was not to be wondered at that Pierrot did 
not manage to latch it. 

As it was, the loud voice of Count Reynaurd 
came rolling forth, and suddenly the Count 
William, angrily pacing his floor, stood stock- 
still and pricked up his ears. 

Now, the count's ears were famous for being 
extraordinarily sharp, and he was also wonder- 
fully apt in remembering anything to which he 
had once carefully listened. He knew in a mo- 
ment that the sound was the voice of Count 
Reynaurd, and then a broad smile crept over 
his face, and he listened harder than ever. 

As Reynaurd kept singing over and over 
again, it was not long till Count William had 
the whole piece by heart, and then, seizing his 
own lute, he began practising it very softly. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " he laughed to himself. 
" Thou great foolish Reynaurd ! Canst thou 
never learn how to hold thy tongue ? But 
never mind, I will play such a trick on thee 
as will teach thee a lesson thou 'It not soon 
forget. Ha, ha, ha ! " And then he practised 
longer, till he knew both the poetry and music 
as well as did Count Reynaurd himself. 

The next day, Pierrot, still exulting over his 
master's skill, happened to meet Henri in the 
garden, and asked how his noble lord was 
getting on. 

" Oh," said Henri, " finely. He has just made 
a lovely new song ! " And with that he hummed 
a snatch of a piece he had heard Count William 
singing, and which he really thought his master 
had composed. 

As Pierrot heard the music he could scarce 
believe his ears ; first he was speechless with 
astonishment, but at last he sputtered out, " It 
is not true — it is stolen ! That is my dear 
master's, the Count Reynaurd." 

" Pierrot," burst in Henri, " I would have 
thee understand my noble lord, the Count 
William, does not steal, and is a far better 
singer, anyhow, than thy great Reynaurd ! " 



From this matters went from bad to worse, 
till the two little pages were just on the eve of 
coming to blows ; but, fortunately, at this point 
one of King Rene's seneschals caught sight of 
them, and, hastening up, gave each a sound 
cuff on the ear, crying out as he did so, " Ho, 
ye little borel knaves ! Know ye not the good 
king will have no brawlers upon these palace 
grounds ? Take that, sirrahs ! and see to it 
that ye behave more seemly hereafter." 

The pages being thus forcibly separated, 
Pierrot ran as fast as his legs would carry him 
up the palace stairs, and burst into his master's 
chamber, panting out indignantly, " Dear Lord 
Reynaurd, the wicked Count William has stolen 
thy beautiful song and will win the prize ! 
And I tried to stop Henri, and — o-o-oh — " 
Here poor Pierrot, still smarting under the 
cuff from the seneschal, quite broke down, 
and was obliged to double his fists very hard 
and bite his lips to keep back the angry tears. 

At first Count Reynaurd gasped with aston- 
ishment, and then jumped up in a towering 
passion. But by and by his wits came back 
to him, and he remembered that Count William 
had always been a good friend of his; but then 
his heart misgave him as he remembered, too, 
that Count William was a famous joker, and 
loved a jest above all things. 

The more he thought of it, the more sure he 
felt that William only meant in some way to 
tease him, though he could not understand 
how he had learned the song. Just then his 
eye fell on the door, that Pierrot in his haste 
had left unfastened, as usual ; and then it 
flashed through Count Reynaurd's mind how 
Count William had found out about the music. 
Reynaurd, moreover, had no doubt but that 
before the king William would probably sing 
the piece as his own, a thing which he could 
easily do, as Rene had announced that they 
would be called on in alphabetical order, ac- 
cording to the names of their domains ; and as 
Auvergne thus came before Poitiers, Reynaurd 
knew that Count William would sing first, and 
that it would then be hard to make the people 
believe that the song was his and not William's; 
yet he determined, if possible, to try in some way 
to get the better of him. 

He thought and thought very hard for a little 



THE PAGE OF COUNT REYNAURD. 



95 



while, and then suddenly he said to Pierrot, 
" Pierrot, dost thou still remember the Latin 
tongue that good Father Ambrose taught thee 
last winter in our castle in Poitiers ? " 

The little page assured his lord that he did, 
for he was really a clever scholar in the Latin 
tongue, which both his master and the Count 
William understood but indifferently. 

Then Count Reynaurd called him close to 
his side, and whispered a plan to him that 
seemed to please them both mightily. Pierrot at 
once took up the goose-quill pen that Reynaurd 
handed him, and after screwing up his face and 
working very carefully, he wrote these lines : 

" Hoc carmen non composui, 
Quod cano, quod cano! " 

and this he took great pains to teach his master. 
The next day Count Reynaurd sang his song 
over again and again, and Pierrot purposely 
left the door ajar. And Count William noticed 
that after every stanza there were two new lines 
added in another tongue : 

" Hoc carmen non composui, 
Quod cano, quod cano ! " 

At first this puzzled Count William very 
much indeed; but at length, " Faugh ! " he said 
to himself, " that ridiculous Reynaurd is seek- 
ing to give a learned air to his poetry ! I dare 
say he has picked up those lines out of some 
old manuscript, and thinks to pass himself off 
for a great scholar." 

Then Count William tried to make out the 
meaning of the words, which were fitted into 
the rhyme of the stanzas in such a way that 
they could not well be left out. He studied 
over them till he thought he understood them, 
though, as it turned out, he was quite mistaken. 
But as it was a very common way with the 
troubadours to end every stanza with similar 
lines, which they called the refrain, Count Wil- 
liam suspected nothing, and set himself to work 
to learn the new words. 

The time that the king had allowed the 
rival noblemen was now almost up, and in two 
days more the song-contest took place. 

The great banqueting-hall had been beauti- 
fully hung with garlands of flowers and gay 
banners, and at one end of it the king's throne 



stood on a dais, and over it swung a scarlet 
canopy like an enormous poppy-flower turned 
upside down. In the middle of the room 
were placed long tables, and in the palace 
kitchens the cooks were running about busy- 
ing themselves preparing the great feast. 

By and by King Rene came into the hall 
and took his seat on the throne. He wore a rich 
robe of purple velvet, embroidered all over in 
the brightest silks and gold; and after him 
came a great troupe of troubadours and minne- 
singers, some carrying their own harps or viols, 
and some followed by little pages who bore 
their masters' belongings. 

As the good king Rene looked at his gay 
company and the brilliantly hung hall and the 
long tables, his eyes sparkled with delight, 
and his heart swelled with pleasure when he 
thought of the coming contest ; for he was never 
so happy as when thus surrounded by his dear 
troubadours, whom he loved to make in every 
way as happy as possible. 

Then, when all was ready, a gaily dressed 
herald came into the hall, and kneeling before 
the king, and bowing to the assembled com- 
pany, announced the coming of the two counts, 
William and Reynaurd. All the other trouba- 
dours and minnesingers stood up, and King 
Rene smiled graciously as the two noblemen 
entered, followed by their pages, Pierrot and 
Henri, each of whom carried a viol bedecked 
with long silken ribbons. 

When the counts had saluted the king and 
taken their places before him, he commanded a 
seneschal to bear in the prize ; and so the beau- 
tiful collar of jewels was brought in upon a 
silver tray and placed on a carved bench be- 
side the king. Then a herald stepped out, 
and, lifting the collar upon the point of a 
flower-wreathed lance, displayed it to all the 
company and announced the terms of the con- 
test of song about to take place. 

All of which was certainly a great deal better 
and prettier than the customs of most of the other 
royal courts of that time. In all the lands ex- 
cept where King Rene lived, when the people 
wanted entertainment they used to gather to- 
gether to see contests called tournaments, where 
noble lords tried to overthrow each other with 
real lances on which were no garlands. But 



9 6 



THE PAGE OF COUNT REYNAURD. 



[Dec. 



King Rene could not endure such barbarous 
displays, and so in his palace no one fought 
another except with pretty verses, and the best 
poet was the champion. 

So now, as all the usual ceremony had been 
gone through, the king called Count William 
to step forth first and sing his song. There 
was a merry twinkle in the count's eyes as he 
took his viol from Henri, hung the silken rib- 
bons about his neck, and then, after striking a 
few soft notes with the tips of his fingers, be- 
gan to sing, as his own, the song made up by 
Count Reynaurd. He went through the whole 
piece, although each time when he came to the 
Latin lines he mumbled them over so that the 
words sounded indistinctly, and one could not 
be certain of just what they were. 

When he had finished, the king was de- 
lighted, and all clapped their hands and won- 
dered how it would be possible for Count Rey- 
naurd to do better. Indeed, they looked rather 
pityingly on Reynaurd, as one already defeated. 

Then, when the cheers had somewhat quieted 
down, King Rene commanded Count Rey- 
naurd to stand forth and take his turn for the 
prize. Reynaurd quietly stepped out, and, 
saluting the king, said : " My royal liege, the 
song to which you have just listened was not 
the work of Count William of Auvergne, but of 
myself, Reynaurd of Poitiers." 

At this, as Count Reynaurd had expected, 
every one looked incredulous, and Count Wil- 
liam pretended to be very indignant, and de- 
clared that he had not been outside of his own 
apartments for the ten days; that he had not 
set eyes on Count Reynaurd through all that 
time ; and altogether appeared to be terribly 
angry that Count Reynaurd should hint that 
the song belonged to him. 

Count Reynaurd, however, asked but one 
thing of the king, who readily granted his re- 
quest. It was that Count William be com- 
manded to sing the song once more, and that 
each time he must sing the Latin lines as 
plainly as possible. 

Count William looked somewhat abashed at 
this proposal, and began to suspect that a trap 
was laid for him. However, he could not re- 
fuse to do the command of King Rene, espe- 



cially when it seemed so simple a thing; and so 
he was obliged to sing again, and say the Latin 
words very plainly, all the while very angry 
with himself because on the spur of the mo- 
ment he could think of no other words to put 
in place of the Latin refrain, which was so 
cleverly woven into each stanza that it could 
not be left out without spoiling the rhyme. 

The king listened attentively, for, as the 
Count Reynaurd knew, Rene was a good Latin 
scholar himself; and by and by, when the re- 
frain came into the song : 

" Hoc carmen non composui, 
Quod cano, quod cano ! " 

King Rene began to laugh ; and he laughed 
and laughed till the tears fairly ran down his 
cheeks ; for what do you think the words really 
mean ? They mean : 

" I did not make this song, 
That I sing, that I sing! " 

When the king at last managed to stop 
laughing for a few minutes, he translated the 
lines so every one could hear. 

At first Count William looked very blank ; 
then, realizing how cleverly the tables had been 
turned upon him and he had been caught in 
his own prank, he enjoyed the joke as much as 
anybody, and laughed the loudest of all. In- 
deed, such a "Ha, ha!" as went up through the 
whole banquet-hall was never before heard, 
and the very rafters seemed to shake with glee. 

The good king was so delighted with the 
entertainment that he called Count Reynaurd 
and Count William both before him, and taking 
a hand of each, declared that the jeweled col- 
lar must be divided equally between them, and 
at once ordered his goldsmiths to set to work 
to make it into two collars instead of one; 
which they could very easily do, as it was so 
wide and heavy. 

Then the king had a lovely silver cup 
brought in for Pierrot, because of his cleverness 
in the Latin tongue; and afterward the whole 
company of troubadours and minnesingers and 
pages sat down and feasted so merrily that, 
years later, when Pierrot himself grew to be a 
famous troubadour, he used often to sing of 
the gaiety of that great festival. 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



By Thomas G. Allen, Jr. 




COASTING. 



In all that has been written about Siberia, 
little has been told us of the boys of that land. 
I believe they have been unjustly neglected. 
I know the Siberian youths would resent this, 
for the Siberian boy has many valid claims 
upon our consideration, not the least being that 
he will share in and aid to control the future 
of one of the richest countries in the world. 

For this reason I think that a general idea 
of what the boys are like in that far-away and 
little known region of the world might be both 
of interest and profit to the St. Nicholas 
readers. But first let us correct any ill-founded 
notions he may have about Siberia itself. 

" As dreary and cold as Siberia " is an ex- 



pression that has come to be almost a proverb. 
The very name has always conjured up a scene 
of desolation and perpetual winter, enlivened, 
perhaps, by a band of criminal exiles plodding 
along some lonely highway or practically buried 
alive in some gloomy mine-pit. In imagination 
we have even heard the clanking of prison 
chains, the moaning of suffering men, and the 
sobs of distressed women. And yet, however 
displeasing the picture which the name of Sibe- 
ria never fails to convey, its very mysterious 
and melancholy associations have ever exerted 
a strange fascination. I must confess that I 
have been no exception to the general rule. 
At a very early age I developed the desire to 



97 



9 8 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



[Dec. 



visit this mysterious country, and to discover Siberian Railway might very justly be called 

for myself, if possible, some of its terrible hid- the northern "promised land of milk and 

den secrets. honey"; for in its teeming soil, genial summer 

It has been my good fortune, on two recent climate, and fabulous mineral wealth it is 

occasions, to gratify this wayward ambition ; second to none in the world, 

and from what I saw and experienced I can So much, then, for this vastly misunderstood 

assure my youthful reader that his general country. Let us now consider the Siberian boy 




A GAME OF TENPINS. 



gloomy notion about the "land of snow and 
exiles " is, in the main, incorrect — that there is 
another and a very bright side to the Siberian 
picture. 

Not raising the question of the deplorable 
Siberian exile system, I would impress upon the 
reader that Siberia itself, in its southern portion 
at least, is a region where the vegetation is as 
varied and luxuriant, where the birds warble 
just as sweetly, where the children play and 
the people laugh and sing just as cheerfully, as 
in our own country. In fact, that portion of 
Siberia which is now reached by the new Trans- 



himself. To begin with, the Siberian boy is not 
a Russian. I insist upon this distinction be- 
cause I know he would be sure to make it if 
he were here to speak for himself. " No, sir ; I 
am not a Russian," one has often said to me, in 
polite correction ; " I 'm a Siberian." And he 
speaks in a way that leaves no room to doubt 
the sincerity of his pride. The reader may, 
perhaps, think this a distinction without a dif- 
ference ; but, from my personal observation, I 
should say that there is justification for it, even 
aside from the question of intermixture of na- 
tive blood with the Siberian-Russian. Gener- 



i8g8.] 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



99 




THE CADET SCHOOL AT OMSK, SIBERIA. 



ally speaking, the Siberian boy, as compared quicker- witted, more energetic, and more self- 
with the boy of European Russia, is by far the respecting. He has many more of the quali- 







SIBERIAN CADETS EXERCISING UPON THE "GIANT SWING. 



IOO 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



[Dec. 




THROWING STICKS. 



ties that in the hour of his country's need go 
to make him the hero or the patriotic soldier. 



They say it takes a smart man to make a 
rascal. Whether this be true or not, certain it 




A TUG-OF-WAR. 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



IOI 



is that the class of men who have been sent as 
exiles to Siberia, especially the political pris- 
oners, have generally been taken from the 
more intellectual classes of European Russia. 
The descendants of these exiles, on the other 
hand, being born and raised in Siberia, away 
from the harmful influences of a crowded popu- 
lation, have inherited natural intelligence 
without the incentives to misuse it. Further- 
more, they know nothing about the disgrace 



wield a hammer or ax to build a sled, appro- 
priate the family wash-basin or large butter- 
bowl, and go coasting down the hillsides. His 
game of marbles, if such it may be called, is 
quite different from our own. Instead of mar- 
bles the ankle-bones of sheep are used ; for all 
forms of pottery are dear in Siberia, while sheep 
are plentiful. The marbles, or sheep-bones, 
are placed in a row and then shot at from a 
distance, like a row of tenpins. He has, of 




THE CADETS PRACTISING OUTDOOR GYMNASTICS. 



of exile, and regard Siberia only with genuine 
pride as the land of their nativity. 

In the matter of sports and games the Sibe- 
rian is not so well off, perhaps, as the American 
boy; nevertheless, he seems to enjoy just as 
heartily what few he has. His snow battles 
are as spirited, his gymnastic contests as earnest, 
and his games of chess as serious. 

He displays almost as much ingenuity as the 
American lad in modeling his own kites and 
constructing his own sleds. I have seen even 
very little fellows, without strength enough to 



course, his regular game of tenpins, with a ten- 
pin alley and rules just like our own. 

The Siberian boys, especially in the military 
schools, are carefully trained in calisthenics and 
gymnastics ; and the cool, exhilarating climate 
of Siberia renders this form of amusement more 
enjoyable than in our own country. It is this, 
more than anything else, that has helped to 
develop the brawn and sinew of the Russian 
army. The photographs representing the 
forms of gymnastic exercises which accompany 
this article were taken at the Cadet University 



102 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA 




SIBERIAN CADETS PLAYING CHESS. 



at Omsk, Siberia. The students of this univer- 
sity are educated for the purpose of becoming 
officers in the Siberian army, and they are spe- 
cially trained to withstand Siberian hardships 
and the rigors of its winter climate. Most of 
them are sons of army officers or of higher-class 
civilians. 

But there is not much caste or class distinc- 
tion in Siberia, and the few social rules are lax. 
The Russian Siberians mingle freely with the 
native tribes, and their customs and habits 
have, in consequence, been considerably modi- 
fied. I have often seen groups of boys play- 
ing on the street, where the Kirghiz or Buriat 
boys were mixed indiscriminately with the Rus- 
sians. From their dress or language it was im- 
possible to distinguish them ; for both costume 
and language were a strange mixture. Only 
the peculiar features of the native or the more 
slovenly appearance of the Russian would be- 
tray the slightest difference. It is an old saying 
that you " scratch a Russian and find a Tar- 
tar." It might be more appropriately said — at 



least, of the Russian peasant — that you scrape 
the dirt off a Russian and find a clean Tartar ; 
for the latter are decidedly the more cleanly. 

I have already expressed the opinion that 
the Siberian boy was quicker-witted, of more 
spirited nature and prouder disposition, than 
the boy of European Russia. It might be well 
to justify these impressions by relating certain 
personal experiences. 

During a bicycle journey through Siberia 
one summer, I had occasion to travel several 
hundred miles along what is called the Great 
Siberian Highway. You will see by glancing 
at the map that this road connects the Siberian 
capital, Irkutsk, with European Russia. The 
distance is some three thousand miles, and 
along its course have been built nearly all the 
towns and villages of old Siberia. 

Through these towns and villages I made 
my daily runs, and usually with a clamoring 
multitude of shouting boys and yelping dogs as 
my escort; for a bicycle was as yet a novelty 
in that part of the world, and in some of the 



I.] 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



IO3 



more remote districts even a thing unknown. 
I remember, on entering a certain village just 
at dusk, when the streets were quite deserted, I 
came suddenly upon two village boys walking 
in the street. They did not see me until I 
flashed abruptly past them. They threw up 
their hands in bewilderment, shrieked out, 
" Chort eediott/" (The devil 's coming!), and 
fled in terror to their homes. I rode on to 
the regular post-station, ordered a frugal sup- 
per, and prepared to pass the night in the 
" traveler's room." 

In the meantime the news of the " devil's " 
arrival had spread like wild-fire through the 
village, and the post-yard was soon swarming 
with village boys pestering the station-master 
to let them have a peep at the marvelous 
" devil's carriage." With the " devil's " per- 
mission, the carriage was finally taken out to 
exhibit to the wondering crowd. When I had 
finished my meal, I stole out unnoticed to ob- 
serve the group of eager urchins gathered 
round the object of their curiosity. One of 
their number, more presumptuous than the rest, 



had taken hold of the wheel, and was endeavor- 
ing to enlighten his young congregation on 
bicycle philosophy in general, and this wheel in 
particular. The handle-bars, he knew, were to 
catch hold of, and the seat was to sit on, but 
he did not exactly know how it was propelled. 
An inquisitive chap raised the question 
of balancing — how the bicycle could stand up 
without being held. This question was imme- 
diately seconded by the rest of the assembly, 
and put the self-elected teacher on his mettle. 
He asserted at once that that feat was easy 
enough to perform ; but the more he tried to 
show them how, the more he realized its diffi- 
culty, until finally the bicycle got tangled up 
with his legs, and both went sprawling on the 
ground. This was the signal for a shout of 
derisive laughter from the crowd; but the little 
fellow was not to be defeated so ignominiously. 
He picked himself up, rubbed his head for 
a moment, and meditated. Finally a happy 
thought struck him. " Oh, I know how it is ! " 
he exclaimed, as he picked up the bicycle. 
" You see, when it falls over this way he puts 




LEARNING CARPENTRV. WORKING AT CARPENTERS BENCHES AND A TURNING-LATHE. 



io4 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



[Dec. 




A FENCING-BOUT WITH FOILS. 



down this prop " (pointing to the right pedal), other." Then the self-appointed lecturer upon 
" and when it falls that way he puts down the bicycles looked proudly around for approval. 




PRACTISING WALKING ON TIMBERS PLACED ACROSS A DITCH. 



••■] 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



I05 



" Why, of course," they all murmured, and 
in a tone of self-reproof that they had not 
thought of it before. 

And so the little village wiseacre at once 
maintained his reputation, and impressed upon 
his associates how stupid they were not to have 
solved the problem for themselves. 

The pride of knowledge and self-confidence 
in the Siberian lad was brought home to me 
rather forcibly last winter. I was spending 
some time at a certain gold-mining camp not 
far from the Siberian-Chinese border-line. It 
had been an exceptionally severe winter, and 
a fall of seven feet of snow had covered the 
valley and surrounding mountains. Even sled 
traffic was practically abandoned. Wearied, 
one day, with the tediousness of camp life, I 
started out with gun and snow-shoes to hunt 
for riabchick, a bird very similar to our grouse, 
but covered with a mass of feathers, even down 
to its very toes. The ten-year-old son of my 
host, to whom I had taken quite a fancy, 
begged for the privilege of accompanying 
me. I could not refuse him, notwithstanding 
my apprehensions on account of his extreme 
youth, for he assured me that he could stand 
any hardship, and, as I had seen for myself, 
was an adept at snow-shoeing. 

The Siberian snow-shoe, I will say in pass- 
ing, is a strip of thin wood covered with skin, 
and resembles the Norwegian ski rather than 
the Canadian snow-shoe. Unless you have had 
long practice, it is a very difficult thing to man- 
age in the snow. 

We started out to ascend the slope of a 
neighboring mountain, where some birds had 
been seen the day before. After a very short 
time it became evident that my little compan- 
ion had the better of me; for his lightness of 
body, in addition to his snow-shoeing skill, en- 
abled him to glide up over the deep snow with 
almost no effort whatever. I can see him now 
as he brushed along with rapid stride, his little 
fur coat covered with snowy spray, and his 
cheeks flushed with the glow of exercise. 

We reached the top, having bagged two very 
fine birds on the way, and there we stopped to 
rest for a while, to take in the magnificent, far- 
reaching view, which it is possible to get only 
in the extremely clear atmosphere of Siberia. 
Vol. XXVI.— 14. 



Before starting on the descent, I tightened the 
straps on our snow-shoes, and cautioned my 
little companion about going slowly and care- 
fully. We had not gone many yards, however, 
before the exhilaration of the exercise made 
him forget himself, and he shot down like the 
wind. I feared every moment that he would 
meet with some accident — so much so, in fact, 
that I hastened along at his own pace to keep 
near him. In doing this my lack of experience 
in snow-shoeing proved disastrous. In mak- 
ing a sudden turn my shoes got twisted, and 
over I went headlong, to bury myself, head 
first, in the snow. My gun landed some six 
feet away, with stock in the air. Any one who 
has been in a snow-drift seven feet deep knows 
how difficult it is to extricate one's self from it, 
especially when standing on one's head. The 
more I struggled the deeper I sank ; and had 
it not been for the timely assistance of my little 
companion, who fortunately had seen me fall, 
it is possible that I should have been there 
yet. To be outdone, and even rescued, by a 
little fellow scarcely ten years of age, whom I 
had considered too frail even to accompany me, 
was a humiliation indeed. 

I have often witnessed the brave endurance of 
the Siberian boy, but never to such an extent as 
while on a sledge journey from Krasnoyarsk to 
Minusinsk. The road between these two points 
during the winter is nothing more than the 
frozen surface of the Yenisei River ; for the ice 
is over a yard in thickness, and although the 
swift current of the river crowds it up into small 
hummocks during the early winter, yet, with 
the packing of snow and the constant wear of 
the sledge caravans, it affords a comparatively 
smooth and solid road-bed. The ice is con- 
sidered so safe that it is even used as a bridge 
for the trains of the Trans-Siberian Railway. 
The ties are laid directly upon the ice, and the 
locomotive with a loaded train steams across. 
Fancy a thousand tons' weight crossing one of 
the largest and deepest rivers in Siberia merely 
on frozen water! 

The incident I am going to tell occurred on 
one of the coldest nights I have ever experi- 
enced, for the thermometer stood at 25 
below zero. In order to prepare for the long 
ride to the next station, I had swallowed three 



io6 



THE BOYS OF SIBERIA. 



or four glasses of hot tea at the yejnskie quar- 
teer, or station, and strapped on a heavy reindeer- 
pelt over my huge Russian overcoat. On reach- 
ing the sledge, or tarantass, which was waiting, 
I saw on the driver's box what appeared to be 
a solid ball of furs; but on closer inspection 
I found that the bundle contained a boy not 
more than fourteen years of age. His extreme 
youthfulness surprised me, and I immediately 
returned to the keeper of the quarteer to re- 
monstrate with him against detailing a mere 
boy for such an arduous duty on such a cold 
night. He assured me that the boy referred 
to had made the same journey many times be- 
fore, and was indeed a full-fledged yemstchick, 
or tarantass driver. Although inwardly pro- 
testing, I could do nothing but accept the sit- 
uation. 

I gave the word to start. Crack ! went the 
little fellow's whip, and away dashed the troika 
(team of three horses). Our horses were al- 
ready impatient with the cold. The night was 
black and threatening, and the roadway among 
the hummocks of ice on the river was almost 
indistinguishable. As the darkness increased, 
we frequently missed it altogether, and the 
ponderous sledge went bumping and toppling 
over the icy hummocks, while our poorly fed 
peasant horses strained every nerve to keep it 
in motion. Two hours passed by, when sud- 
denly the sledge stopped, half tilted on a huge 
hummock of ice. "The horse is down, barin" 
(master), shouted the little yemstchick. I leaped 
out at once, and ran to the horse's head to as- 
sist him to rise, but he did not move. There 
was not even a sound of breathing. I placed 
my hand over his heart. There was not a beat. 
The horse was dead. The poorly nourished 
animal had succumbed to the excessive cold 
and strain. We took off the harness, backed 
the sledge out of the way, and then started off 
again with the two horses remaining. The lit- 



tle fellow on the box, I could see, was shivering 
with the cold, as I myself was by this time, for 
the exposure necessitated by the accident had 
chilled me through. I offered to take, and 
even insisted upon taking, his place for a time, 
so that he might warm up ; but he resented 
this intrusion as almost an indignity to his call- 
ing. Not a murmur of discontent passed his 
lips. On we rode through the darkness; 
but how long I know not, for, exhausted by 
twenty-four hours' constant traveling, I fell into 
a doze. From this I was finally roused by a 
sudden shock. We seemed to have collided 
with something. I looked out, and saw that 
we had reached the next village, and that our 
steaming, frost-covered horses, eager to get into 
shelter, had run the shafts of our vehicle head- 
long into the gate. 

" What 's the matter ? " I called out to the 
yemstchick. 

" Please, barin, I could n't hold 'em," came 
the reply, in a chattering voice. 

That admission was sufficient; I knew that 
the little fellow's hands must be either numbed 
or, frozen, and for that reason he could not pull 
on the reins. I jumped out, opened the gate, 
and led the horses in; but he did not move 
from his box; his legs were too stiff with the 
cold. I picked him up and carried him bodily 
into the house. A basin of snow was immedi- 
ately brought to thaw out his frozen fingers, 
while I removed his clothing to rub a circu- 
lation back into his stiffened limbs. With this 
and a glass or two of hot tea we finally restored 
him to animation. Even then he never uttered 
one word of complaint, and when I slipped a 
ruble into his glowing fingers he looked as 
cheerful as though nothing unpleasant had 
happened. 

If this, I thought, is the stuff the Siberian 
soldiery are made of, then Russia need never 
fear a rival to her title of "Ruler of the East!" 



\UsJ 



//A 66 







Qb Mm 



By Alvred Bayard 




The Mouse and the Elephant lived at 
ease 
On the island of Where-and-Why. 
But the Elephant mourned, 
In his ponderous way, 
That he was so wide and high. 



The Mouse, on the other hand, squeaked 
with grief, 
And crossed his beautiful eyes, 
Lamenting that he 
Was so very small — 
Each envied the other his size. 

One night, when the moon was over the left 
And the wind was sounding his trump, 
A Fairy came forth 
From her home in a cleft, 
With a hop, and a skip, and a jump, 

And placed a spell on the sleeping pair, 
When, lo ! at the morning's call, 

The Mouse, it was plain, 

Had been growing large, 
And the Elephant growing small. 



Then danced they a jig in their greenwood bower 
What less could the Fairy expect ? 
And each one remarked, 
In merriest mood : 
" We certainly are the elect." 

107 




io8 



AN ISLAND FABLE. 



[Dec. 




The change soon completed, their sizes re- 
versed, 
Again they would live at their ease — 
The Elephant dined 
On a thimble of hay, 
The Mouse on a cart-load of cheese. 




Grimalkin and traps no terrors possessed 
For the Mouse in his new disguise; 
The Elephant scoffed 
As hidden he watched 

The tents of the circus arise. 



But joy was short-lived; 

sorrows gathered 

apace : 

They were strangers 

among their own 

kin! 

They kept open 

house, 
As good neighbors 
should ; 
Yet no former com- 
panions dropped 
in. 



Their talents were wasted in dozens of 
ways, 
Which caused them still more to be- 
wail : 
The Elephant had 
Little use for his trunk, 
And the Mouse for his length of tail. 

At last, when their griefs could no longer 
be borne, 
And they had n't a single friend, 
They both laid them down 
By the pitying sea, 
Their lives and their troubles to end. 

Again, the pale moon being over the 
left, 
And the wind a-sounding his trump, 
The Fairy came forth 
From her home in the cleft, 
With a hop, and a skip, and a 
jump, 

And, lifting the spell from the perishing 
pair 
By the side of the whispering wave, 
She bade them return 
Each one to his own, 
And be happy, and good, and 
brave. 



AN ISLAND FABLE. 



IO9 



Moral (for Large Children) : 

Let each be himself, not somebody else, 
Nor covet what others may hold. 

Each one has his place, 

That he can best fill : 
Contentment is silver and gold. 



Moral Number Two (Confidential, for Small 
Children) : 

When fairies come forth, with the moon 
on the left, 
And the wind is sounding his trump, 
Good children had better 
Be scampering home, 
With a hop, and a skip, and a jump! 





~^ 



JBy^.&C.Core • 



For some years after the close of our Civil 
War, the attention of our people was chiefly 
occupied with a study and recital of the most 
prominent battles, the decisive events, and the 
acts of famous officers. But now that these 
bolder features of the war panorama have been 
examined and discussed, we may take time to 
look at some of the details, to call up the mi- 
nor incidents, to bestow meed of praise upon 
privates, or to record the littles that made up 
the much. 

The sacrifices of the women and children at 
home have been repeatedly referred to in gen- 
eral, but seldom do we see mention made of 
their daily privations, the petty but continual 
annoyances to which they were subjected, and 
the struggle they made to sow and reap, as 
well as the difficulties they met in saving the 
harvested crops. 

The hiding-places here described were all in 
one house. This house was in Virginia, near a 
town which changed hands, under fire, eighty- 
two times during the war — a town whose 
hotel register shows on the same page the 
names of officers of both armies, a town where 
there are two large cities of the fallen soldiers, 
each embellished by the saddest of all epi- 
taphs — " To the unknown dead." Out from 
this battered town run a number of turnpikes, 
and standing as close to one of these as a city 
house stands to the street was the house re- 
ferred to — the home of a widow, three small 
children, a single domestic, and, for part of 
the time, an invalid cousin, whose ingenuity 
and skill fashioned the secret places, one of 
which was on several occasions his place of 
refuge. 

With fall came the " fattening time " for the 
hogs. They were then brought in from the 



distant fields, where they had passed the sum- 
mer, and put in a pen by the side of the road. 
And although within ten feet of the soldiers as 
they marched by, they were never seen, for the 
pen was completely covered by the winter's 
wood-pile, except at the back, where there was 
a board fence through whose cracks the corn 
was thrown in. Whenever the passing ad- 
vance-guard told us that an army was ap- 
proaching, the hogs were hurriedly fed, so that 
the army might go by while they were taking 
their after-dinner nap, and thus not reveal 
their presence by an escaped grunt or squeal. 
Fortunately, the house was situated in a nar- 
row valley, where the opportunities for bush- 
whacking were so great that the soldiers did not 
tarry long enough to search unsuspected wood- 
piles. On one occasion we thought the hogs 
were doomed. A wagon broke down near the 
house, and a soldier went to the wood-pile for 
a pole to be used in mending the break. Luck- 
ily, he found a stick to his liking without tear- 
ing the pile to pieces. This suggested that 
some nice, straight pieces be always left con- 
veniently near for such an emergency, in case 
it should occur again. 

The house had a cellar with a door opening 
directly out upon the " big road," and never 
did a troop, large or small, pass by without 
countless soldiers seeking something eatable in 
this convenient cellar. It was never empty, 
but nothing was ever found. A partition had 
been run across about three feet from the back 
wall, so near that even a close inspection would 
not suggest a space back of it; and being with- 
out a door, no one would think there was a 
room beyond. The only access to this back 
cellar was through a trap-door in the floor of 
the room above. This door was always kept 



HIDING PLACES IN WAR TIMES. 



Ill 



covered by a carpet, and in case any danger 
was imminent, a lounge was put over this, and 
one of the boys, feigning illness, was there 
" put to bed." In this cellar apples, preserves, 
pickled pork, etc., were kept, and its existence 
was not known to any one outside of the family. 

The two garrets of the house had false 
ends, with narrow spaces beyond, where winter 
clothing, flour, and corn were safely stored. 
The partition in each was of weather-boarding, 
and nailed on from the inner side so as to 
appear like the true ends, and, being in blind 
gables, there was no suspicion aroused by the 
absence of windows. The entrance to these 
little attics was through small doors that were 
a part of the partition, and, as usual in country 
houses, the clothes-line stretched across the end 
from rafter to rafter held enough old carpets and 
useless stuff to silence any question of secret 
doors. Several closets also were provided 
with false backs, where the surplus linen of the 
household found a safe hiding-place. 

In such an exposed place a company of 
scouts, or even a regiment, could appear so un- 
expectedly that it was necessary to keep every- 
thing out of sight. Even the provisions for the 
next meal had to be put away, or before the 
meal could be prepared a party of marauders 
might drop in and carry off the entire supply. 
In the kitchen a wood-box of large size stood by 
the stove. It had a false bottom. In the up- 
per part was " wood dirt," a plentiful supply 
of chips, and so much stove-wood that the im- 
pression would be conveyed that at least there 
was a good stock of fuel always on hand. The 
box was made of tongued and grooved boards, 
and one of these in the front could be slipped 



out, thus forming a door. Into this box all the 
food and silverware were put. No little inge- 
nuity was needed in making this contrivance. 
The nails that were drawn out to let this board 
slip back and forth left tell-tale nail-holes, but 
these were filled up with heads of nails, so 
that all the boards looked just alike. I re- 
member once a soldier was sitting on this box 
while mother was cooking for him what seemed 
to be the last slice of bacon in the house. She 
was so afraid that he would drum on the box 
with his heels, as boys frequently do, and find 
that the box was hollow, that she continually 
asked him to get up while she took a piece of 
wood for the fire. It was necessary to disturb 
him a number of times before he found it ad- 
visable to take the proffered chair, and in the 
meantime a hotter fire had been made than the 
small piece of meat required. 

Of course it was advisable to have at least 
scraps of food lying around — their absence at 
any time would have aroused suspicion and 
started a search that might have disclosed all. 
The large loaves of bread were put in an unused 
bed in the place of bolsters ; money, when there 
was any on hand, was rolled up in a strip of 
cotton which was tied as a string around a 
bunch of hoarhound that hung on a nail in the 
kitchen ceiling ; the chickens were reared in a 
thicket some distance from the house, and, be- 
ing fed there, seldom left it. 

Although this house was searched repeat- 
edly, by day and by night, by regulars and by 
guerrillas, by soldiers of the North and of the 
South, the only loss sustained were a few eggs 
taken by one of General Milroy's men, and this 
loss was not serious, for the eggs were stale. 




THE CHRISTMAS-TREE LIGHTS. 



By Annie Willis McCullough. 



When holiday week 's almost over, 
And broken are some of the toys, 

When Christmas-tree needles are dropping", 
And drums will not give out a noise, 



Then Alice, the next high by measure, 
Puts out all the candles half low ; 

And then I, the oldest and tallest, 
I blow, and I blow, and I blow ! 



When some one has said, "It 's a nuisance; But even / can't reach the top ones, 
This tree must be carried away," So father lifts up Baby Grace ; 

And we stand around and look gloomy, Her dear little mouth is a circle, 
And beg for it "just one more day," All wrinkled her sweet little face. 



There 's one thing that keeps up our spirits : 
The best of the week's merry nights 

Is just at the last, when we children 

May blow out the Christmas-tree lights. 

The little tots, Doris and Douglas, 
They blow out the ones lowest down. 

Their faces get redder and redder; 
Their foreheads are all in a frown. 



She blows out the tiptopmost candles; 

We clap and hurrah when she 's done ; 
And that is the end of the Christmas, 

The very — last — bit — of — the — fun! 
# # # # # 

But all through the year it 's a pleasure 

To think of our holiday nights — 
The best coming last, when we children 

May blow out the Christmas-tree lights. 





hi 



THE PIE AND THE CLOCK. 



By Eliza Atkins Stone. 



On Christmas day we had a pie, 

A nice round pie with a crimpy rim ; 
And mother was cutting it, and she said, 
" Big or little ? " to Uncle Jim. 

Uncle Jim looked a funny look 

Right up over mother's head. 
Then he told her, " 'Bout ten minutes, 
please." 

Truly, that 's just what he said. 

Everybody stared at him. 

Mother said : " What under the sun ! " 
Father said : " Too deep for me ! 

Come, Jim, give us an easy one." 

But I looked up at our tall old clock 
(Where Uncle Jim had looked when he 
spoke). 

Five minutes past three ! He winked at me, 
And I winked back, fori saw the joke. 



JU 



Ma 



•4 1 V 



Vol. XXVI.— 15. 



THE S. A. C. S. 




By Kirk Munroe. 



These are the initials 
of a society that is such 
a useful society, and one 
in which it is so easy to 
acquire membership, that 
every one, boys and girls, 

^Ivf 1 lk'^T'ffi men anc ^ women, ought 
to belong to it ; and I 
expect all who read this 
article to join it imme- 
diately. Not only that, 
but I expect them to 
invite all their friends 
to join, and that these friends will ask their 
friends, so that new members will recruit other 
new members in every direction, until the 
S. A. C. S. is the very largest society in the 
world. Even now, though I am quite a new 
member, I am acquainted with several others 
who are scattered in remote parts of the coun- 
try; and as all of them are active recruiting 
agents, I expect the society is already much 
larger than I have any idea of. It has no 
organization, nor any officers ; it collects nei- 
ther fees nor dues; and as there are no elec- 
tions of either officers or members, there is 
no chance of any one being blackballed while 
seeking admission to its ranks. Any person 
can elect himself, or herself, to membership by 
simply making a mental promise to obey its 
rules, and by prosecuting a vigorous attack 
against the very first one of the society's ene- 
mies that presents itself. For the S. A. C. S. 
has enemies ! Yes, indeed ! And they exist in 
countless numbers in every village and town 
and city of the United States. In fact, its 
enemies have called the society into existence. 
They are powerful and wily, and they prepare 
ambuscades in the most unsuspected places. 
In these they wait with the most untiring pa- 
tience for a chance to startle, injure, or even 
to kill, any unsuspecting human being who 



comes within their reach. The only way in 
which members of the S. A. C. S. can recog- 
nize each other is by their actions upon certain 
occasions. If they kick, they are members ; 
and if they fail to kick or in some other way 
attack the society's enemies, they are not ; for, 
strange to say, all members of the S. A. C. S. 
are kickers. 

All this sounds like the game of " throwing 
light," does it not ? And I have not yet told 
the name of the society, nor hinted at its ob- 
jects ? Well, I will ; but first I want to tell 
how I happened to become a member. I was 
hurrying along one of the very busiest of New 
York streets in company with a well-known 
editor. We were talking so earnestly that I 
hardly noticed where we were going, or whom 
we were passing. Suddenly I missed the edi- 
tor from my side, and, turning, saw him kick 
vigorously at something on the sidewalk. As 
he sent it flying out into the street, a heavy 
team, that formed one of the rushing throng of 
vehicles with which the driveway was crowded, 
drew up sharply, close to the sidewalk. The 
driver, who was one of the roughest-appearing 
of his class, touched his hat to the editor, and 
cried out: "Thank you, mister, for that! One 
of them pesky things broke my leg once, and 
since then I always thanks any man I sees 
fightin' 'em." 

The editor lifted his hat, with a smile to the 
burly fellow, and as the heavy team dashed 
away rejoined me. 

" What did it all mean ? " I asked curiously. 

" It means that I have just discovered an- 
other member of my society," replied my friend, 
with a quizzical smile. 

" Your society ? " 

" Yes; my society of kickers." 

" Kickers ? " I repeated, greatly puzzled. 
" By the way, what were you kicking at so 
vigorously a moment ago ? " 



THE S. A. C. S. 



"5 



" One of the most dangerous, powerful, and 
greatly to be dreaded of all the enemies of my 
society — a banana-skin," he answered. 

" Oh ! " I exclaimed, beginning to under- 
stand. " So your society is for the suppression 
of banana-skins, is it ? " 

" Yes; it is for the suppression, or rather the 
placing where they can do the least harm, of 
banana-skins, orange-peels, melon-rinds, apple- 
or pear-cores, peach-stones, or any other en- 
cumbrances of a sidewalk on which an unwary 
pedestrian may step and come to grief." 

" How many members has your society ? " 

" Only two that I know of — myself and the 



teamster who just now recognized my attack 
on the banana-skin as the action of a fellow- 
member," was the reply. 

" Well, it is a first-rate society, and one 
that I should like to join," I exclaimed enthu- 
siastically, sending a bit of orange-peel spin- 
ning into the gutter with my stick as I spoke. 

" You have joined," answered the editor, 
with a smile. " That single act makes you a 
member." 

" Good ! And now that I am a member, may 
I know the name of your society ? " 

' ; I call it," he replied, " the Society for the 
Amelioration of the Condition of Sidewalks." 



OUR CLUB. 



By Carolyn Wells. 




We 're going to have the mostest fun ! 

It 's going to be a club ; 
And no one can belong to it 

But Dot and me and Bub. 



And then we said a Sewing Club, 
But thought we 'd better not ; 

'Cause none of us knows how to sew- 
Not me nor Bub nor Dot. 



We thought we 'd have a Reading Club, 
But could n't, 'cause, you see, 

Not one of us knows how to read — 
Not Dot nor Bub nor me. 



And so it 's just a Playing Club; 

We play till time for tea; 
And oh, we have the bestest times !- 

Just Dot and Bub and me. 




By Warren McVeigh. 



Max found out about the weakness of the 
flesh and the willingness of the spirit at 
about the same time that his first real disap- 
pointments came to him, and immediately after 
his first attempt to commit the virtue of self- 
sacrifice. 

Max was six years old. His dog " Jack " was 
an amiable creature, and had endeared himself 
very much to his master. Jack had to get in 
the way of a truck, and Jack died. 

The hope of Max's heart was the fact that 
when he too died, — which because of the death 
of Jack he then hoped would be very soon, — he 
would meet Jack in heaven. Somebody — some 
unimaginative person — told Max that dogs 
did not go to heaven, that they had no souls. 
That was Max's first great disappointment. 

The second was like unto it. 

The same somebody — one of those bother- 
some somebodies who put shoes and stockings 
on little boys on rainy days in the summer, and 
make them wear uncomfortable clothes when 
they go in swimming — told Max the whole 
story of Santa Claus. 

Max took his sorrowful heart to his mother's 
knee, and, hoping against hope, told her what 
he had heard. And when it was all over he 
felt better, for in place of the beautiful story he 
had lost she had told him another. 

In the long, cool grass down near the water's 
edge, he thought of the new story, and the more 
he thought of it the better he liked it. 

" If Dot was to fall in that water there," he 
said half aloud, as he sat up and looked out 
over the dancing wavelets of the lake, " I 'd 
dive in after her. Maybe I 'd be drowned," — he 
hesitated for a moment and shuddered, — " but 



what of that? I 'd be self-sacrificing. Supposin' 
I was drowned ; anyhow, they 'd put me in the 
parlor, and everybody would cry and say I was 
a good boy, and had given up my life for Dot. 
And I would give it up for her, that I would." 

Whereupon Max began to think of such ter- 
rible things that might happen to his sister Dot, 
who was only four years old, and of still more 
terrible things that might happen to him, if 
he should try to sacrifice himself for her, that 
pretty soon he began to feel a little weak in 
the knees, and it began to get cold down in 
the grass, and the little boy decided to whistle 
and go to see the pigs. 

While he was poking them in the ribs, Max 
had an idea. It suddenly occurred to him that 
there was no sense in his making it a matter of 
life and death just to sacrifice himself. His 
mother had told him that men and women 
gave gifts to their little children at Christmas- 
time to make them happy, and that self-denial 
and self-sacrifice were the true essence of the 
Christmas spirit. 

Max had a little fortune stored away in his 
bank. This fortune he decided to spend to make 
Dot happy. 

Full of his idea, he ran to his mother. Her 
consent was a matter of course, and Max ar- 
ranged the preliminaries. 

" Dot," he said that night, as they lay in 
their cribs, " how do you like Christmases ? " 

Dot's eyes grew big. She remembered the 
dolls of the past winter, and the lights of the 
Christmas-tree, and Max thanked his stars that 
he had thought of such a grand scheme, when 
the very idea of it made Dot so happy. 

" Well," said he, when she had told him in 



116 



AN AMATEUR KRIS KRINGLE. 



117 



the strongest terms how very much she liked 
Christmases, " you just watch out day after to- 
morrow, and hang up your stocking to-morrow, 
and you 'II see another Christmas. That 's 
what." 

Dot suggested that it was summer-time. But 
Max said that was all right ; that Kris Kringle 
was coming in a hay-wagon, and that the rein- 
deer had been turned into mules with great 
long ears. Dot fell 
asleep with wonderful 
thoughts of reindeer 
turned into mules with 
long ears, and Max 
sighed, remembering 
his own fond fancies 
about Kris Kringle, 
and how he, too, had 
been happy once. 

The next day was 
full of work forthe little 
boy. First, he had to 
keep Dot's thoughts 
keyed up to the most 
intense pitch, for the 
little girl could not get 
over her doubts about 
the reindeer and the 
snow. Then he had to 
consult his bank. He 
found there was just 
sixty-six cents in it. 

In the first excite- 
ment of his desire to 
sacrifice himself he had 
decided to spend every 
cent he had; but now, 
on second thoughts, he 
concluded that half of 
his fortune would buy 
enough things to fill 
his sister's stocking, 
and then he would still 
have a little money 
left. Finally, he com- 
promised on twenty- 
five cents for Dot, and 

with just a little feeling that he was not as 
generous as he should be, he went down into 
the village to make his purchases. 



He bought a large orange for the toe of the 
stocking, and an apple to go next, and then a 
lot of candy and kisses, and then a banana to 
peep out of the top. 

With his purchases tucked under his coat, he 
stole home, and though Dot was fast asleep in 
the nursery, taking her afternoon nap, Max had 
all the fun and mystery of stealing cautiously 
into the house through the rear cellar door. 




"he sat down nkar the night-lamp, and contemplated his work." (see page 118.) 

He tiptoed upstairs, and hid his things in 
the darkest corner of the garret, and then, with 
much impatience, he waited for night. 



n8 



AN AMATEUR KRIS KRINGLE. 



[Dec. 



The hours passed all too slowly. Dinner was 
tasteless. Even the roasted potatoes with lots 
of butter had no temptations for him. His 
eyes were big and his cheeks red with excite- 
ment, and he talked so much to Dot about 
what she was to expect from Santa Claus that 
the little girl forgot all about the reindeer and 
began to look upon a hay- wagon, and mules 
with long ears, as the very best conveyance that 
Santa Claus could possibly think of. 

Night came, and the little girl was tucked 
away in her bed. The mother and father had 
gone out for the evening, and Max had the 
whole house to himself. So, after Dot 'was 
fast asleep, he got out of his crib and went up 
into the garret for the good 
things he had bought that day. 

Then he tiptoed down to 
the nursery again, and, after 
looking at his sister to make 
sure that she was fast asleep, 
he began to fill her stocking. 

This done, he sat down near 
the night-lamp, and contem- 
plated his work. The stocking 
really did look very beautiful. 
The orange and the apple made 
big lumps at the toe, and one 
end of the banana peeped out 
at the top of the stocking, very 
inviting and nice. 

Max decided to sit up and 
hear what his mother had to 
say about his work. He knew 
that she would take him on her 
lap and kiss him, and call him 
a good little boy, and maybe, 
he thought, she would cry a 
little. Max always liked it 
when his mother cried over 
him. It made him feel queer 
and nice. 

The minutes crept along, 
and still the little boy sat in 
the dim light watching the 
stocking, listening to Dot 
breathing lazily in her sleep, 
and thinking of what a good 
boy he had been, and how nice it was 
sacrifice yourself for another's happiness. 



And then all of a sudden it occurred to him 
that there was nothing in the world that he 
liked better than bananas. The one he had 
bought for Dot was the very best one in the 
market, thick and rich and yellow. Max 
had n't tasted a banana in a month, and the 
more he looked at the tempting banana in 
Dot's stocking the more he yearned for just 
one bite of it. 

Max arose and went over to the stocking. 
He had made up his mind just to take it out 
and smell it, and then to put it back where it 
had been. 

It smelled very good indeed, and Max held 
it at arm's length and looked at it again with 




THE FLOOR 



LAY THE 
IF HIS 



LITTLE TOT OF A HUMAN 
HEART WOULD BREAK." 



I1EING, CRYING AS 



to 



increasing pleasure, and thought what a won- 
derfully fine banana it was. to be sure. 



8.] 



AN AMATEUR KRIS KRINGLE. 



II 9 



Then it occurred to him that Dot would n't 
mind a bit if he took half of it. He could 
tell her all about it in the morning. She al- 
ways gave him half of everything she had, 
and besides, had n't he bought all those 
things for her? and even if he ate the whole 
banana there would be plenty of fruit left for 
her. So he ate the whole of it, and then, half 
ashamed of himself, he hid the skin under the 
chair and took another look at his sister to 
make sure that she had not seen him. 

And still the stocking looked so full and 
good and tempting that Max thought if he 
could only have one candy, or one of the 



kisses, he would be supremely happy; and so 
he took one out and tasted it, and it was so 
good that he ate another and another — 

Until, all of a sudden, before he half knew 
what he had done, the door flew open, and 
there stood his father and mother. And on 
the floor lay the little tot of a human being, 
crying as if his heart would break, for the 
stocking hung flat and empty, and Max had 
begun to realize that all of his self-sacrifice 
had been in vain ; that he was nothing but 
a selfish, thoughtless little boy, and that his sis- 
ter, Dot would have nothing but disappointed 
tears for him in the morning. 



"MARK V." 

( The Story of a Torpedo, ) 



By Clarence Maiko. 



" Mark V." was the name given him at the 
Newport Torpedo Station, and it was painted in 
white letters on the middle of his back. Though 
he was the child of genius, and in his making 
human ingenuity touched the high- water mark, 
young as he was, he had brought disgrace to 
his family and shame to Lieutenant Rines and 
the twelve Jackies of "Torpedo-Boat No. 2." 

His career had been erratic, even for an 
automatic torpedo; and that is saying a good 
deal. 

In the fall practice-manceuvers of the North 
Atlantic Squadron he had mysteriously stuck 
fast in No. 2's bow tube just when he should 
have plopped into the sea and (in make-believe) 
have blown up the battle-ship " Iowa." On a 
second occasion he distinguished himself in a 
sham torpedo attack on the " New York " by 
making a dive like a porpoise, right under the 
bottom of the big white cruiser ; and then he 
came up grinning on the other side. Perhaps 
he shouted out, " How 's that for high ? " For 
no one, not even a congressman or a " bully 



marine," is quite sure that an automatic tor- 
pedo can't talk. At those times Mark V.'s lungs 
were not stuffed with two hundred and fifty 
pounds of guncotton, and he did not have a 
delicate war-head screwed on his nose. Now 
that war had begun, and he was provided with 
those essentials, what Mark V. would take it 
into his head to do, if fired in action, was the 
chief thing that worried Lieutenant Rines and 
everybody and everything on board Torpedo- 
Boat No. 2. The boat was scouting off Porto 
Rico, with orders to the crew to find out some- 
thing without being found out themselves, and 
not to fight unless forced into it. 

No. 2 was a thirty-knot torpedo-boat, and, 
barring their uneasiness about Mark V., the 
confidence that her crew placed in her prowess 
was an edifying thing for an American to behold. 

Even racketing around in a stiff gale off Porto 
Rico, with the deck-house awash and the con- 
ning-tower and the smoke-stacks lashed by 
driving white spray, they were ready for a scrap 
with the biggest, wickedest enemy's battle-ship 




'• HALF-WAY BETWEEN THEM AND THE WRECK, MARK V. WAS SEEN BOBBING UP AND DOWN IN THE SEA." (SEE PAGE 124.) 

I20 



MARK V. 



i2r 



that ever carried a rapid-fire gun. This cour- 
age, though very fine, was rash; for in such 
stormy weather the very best regulated torpedo 
is likely to start off at any time on an aimless 
jaunt to Europe or an expedition to the north 
pole. 

Down in the forward hold under a water- 
tight flat lay Mark V. and four others of his 
breed, fast in steel cradles that secured them 
from the slightest jar, even though Torpedo- 
Boat No. 2 turned a double back-somersault; 
and it seemed sometimes that she was trying to 
do exactly that. 

They looked like a family of gigantic polli- 
wogs. All of them except Mark V. were docile, 
tractable creatures ; and, provided the water 
was not rough or the tide strong, or they did 
not strike a clump of seaweed or run into an 
ocean current, they would travel at their quarry 
as straight as a rifle-bullet goes — for a thousand 
yards, at least. And they steered themselves 
up or down or sideways, and sank or floated 
when they stopped, just as you wished them 
to do. 

Of course the foolish things liked to explode ; 
all torpedoes are given to committing suicide, 
as every Jacky knows; but self-respecting tor- 
pedoes prefer first to run their noses into the 
plates of an enemy's ship. 

After Mark V. made his wonderful dive under 
the New York, Lieutenant Rines tried the 
graceless creature in the starboard training-tube 
during a practice night-attack off Dry Tortugas. 
When he took his plunge, Mark V. went shoot- 
ing off on a miraculous parabola, and finally 
smashed up against friendly Torpedo-Boat 
No. 4, whose crew fished him out, thanking 
their lucky stars he was not loaded. This 
was scandalous, and Lieutenant Rines barely 
escaped a court martial. 

The puzzled board of inquiry that looked 
into the affair were pleased to throw the whole 
blame of it on Mark V. He was placed in 
close arrest for conspiring to blow up a United 
States war- vessel, and branded by every Jacky 
in the fleet as a traitorous Spanish sympathizer. 

In conclusion, the board gave Rines an in- 
formal but significant tip to lose Mark V. — to 
lose him so he never would be found again. 

All night long Torpedo-Boat No. 2 pitched 
Vol. XXVI.— 16. 



and chopped and swung and lurched in a way 
to make a tight-rope performer seasick and 
giddy. 

Sometimes she hung astride the ridge of a 
towering roller, with her bows clear and her 
screws racing in the air; then she fell, nestling 
deep down as though she was swamped ; and 
she would climb slowly out of a green gulf r 
twisting her nose in little arcs, as if she smelt 
something in the sea. And even with every- 
thing on board lashed and nailed and screwed 
and battened, the sea pelted and slapped and 
hammered her till she rattled like a dray mov- 
ing over cobbles. 

Notwithstanding the hurly-burly that reigned 
around them, Mark V. and his brothers were 
fast and tight in their cradles, wondering what 
kind of a funny jump No. 2 would essay 
next, and swapping confidential views on tor- 
pedo-boats and torpedo warfare generally. 

Each torpedo was sure that if he had a 
chance he could blow the most formidable 
war-ship afloat into fragments and scrap-iron. 
It was the dearest hope of each to try the 
effects of an impact under the boilers of an 
enemy's big ships, the " Pelayo" or the " Carlos 
V."; and one torpedo, renowned for his accu- 
racy and judgment, confessed that the prey he 
particularly longed to strike at was a Spanish 
torpedo-destroyer, moving fast, beam on. 
Mark V.'s neighbor, who had once formed 
part of the equipment of the ill-fated " Maine," 
whispered grimly that his only regret was that 
he could not blow up an enemy's vessel twice* 
This sentiment met with general approval. 

Suspected of treachery, Mark V. was severely 
snubbed, and every time Boat No. 2 took a 
very big jump, he squirmed and chafed re- 
sentfully just as much as the narrow cradle 
allowed him. 

" I think the whole success of an open en- 
gagement between torpedo craft depends on 
rapid steaming," squeaked Mark V. in a jerky, 
embarrassed voice. " If those destroyers can 
manceuver five knots faster than torpedo-boats,, 
they can easily circle around and sink 'em ; 
at least, that is what the up-to-date English 
tactics say." 

" What do you know about it ? " rasped out 
the other torpedoes, in chorus. " You are a 



122 



" MARK V." 



[Dec. 



pretty fellow to preach tactics. You ! — who 
can't go straight for ten yards ! A fine fix you 
will put us in if you behave in action as you 
did off Dry Tortugas ! You ought to be made 
into a submarine mine and anchored in a har- 
bor, or degraded into a stupid spar-torpedo 
and fired from a launch." 

MarkV. quivered with shame, and joggled his 
war-head just a wee bit, but enough to give 
everything a scare ; for Boat No. 2 reared 
her head like a shying colt, and the rest of 
the torpedoes nearly blew up from fright. 

Lieutenant Rines and his cadet assistant were 
in the conning-tower, trying to see through the 
clouds of spray and froth that whipped over 
the bows. Everything inside the little vessel, 
from the big panting locomotive boilers down 
to the rivets of the keel-plates, hummed and 
rang and sang and purred, the multitude of 
voices blending into a grim moving war-song, 
that was more impressive than the thunder of 
the storm. 

Suddenly the smothering, pitchy darkness 
around them was rent asunder, and a broad 
shaft of light streamed over the waste of broken 
water. It was the flash-light of an enemy's 
cruiser, and, fortunately for Torpedo-Boat No. 
2, its white glare fell a quarter of a mile to 
the west, leaving her unseen in black shadow. 
Behind the light, the officers in No. 2's con- 
ning-tower could make out the vague, sinister 
lines of a mighty war-ship about a mile away. 

It was the worst possible torpedo weather ; 
but to dash at the enemy and hit her at the 
closest possible torpedo range was No. 2's 
best chance for life, because if the cruiser 
sighted them in such weather they must cer- 
tainly go down under her guns. 

Men who do not know what hesitation is 
are picked out to command torpedo-boats. 
Instantly Rines rang the gong for " full speed 
ahead," and sent the cadet forward to clear 
the bow tube for action. Happily, the enemy 
began to circle the horizon with their search- 
light, moving it from south to west, away from 
the torpedo-boat. 

The pistons of No. 2's engines began to 
fly up and down, and the little vessel leaped 
forward through the storm like a stampeded 
express-train. Even in still water, when travel- 



ing at full speed No. 2 always seemed to be 
climbing the back slope of a tidal wave, and 
now it seemed as if she was trying to bore 
her way through the very grandfather of tidal 
waves; everything but the conning-tower and 
the smoke-stacks was washed with roaring 
water. 

The bow tube had been made ready for use, 
and the torpedo whose only regret was that 
he could not blow up twice had been hoisted 
out of his cradle and pushed home against 
the mouth-valve. 

It was no use to worry with the range-finder, 
because in such weather the only effective range 
was mere pistol-shot distance. 

As No. 2 rushed closer, discovery seemed im- 
minent, for the search-light was fast complet- 
ing the circle of the horizon, and its bright 
glare would soon fall pitilessly on the little 
vessel. With every throb of the engines, No. 
2's crew expected to hear the crash of the 
cruiser's rapid-fire guns and the bursting of 
their projectiles. 

The mile was halved and quartered so rap- 
idly that No. 2's young commander won- 
dered if anybody could think fast enough to 
run a torpedo-boat in action. 

There came a lull, and No. 2 poised her- 
self on the crest of a big wave. It was the 
right time to fire. The muzzle-valve of the 
bow tube snapped open, and the torpedo flew 
into the sea on its terrible errand. 

Just then No. 2 veered and tried to run 
away from the fast-approaching search-light; 
but, while turning, a mighty surge caught her 
up and hurled her, shuddering, into a yawning 
gulf. Something inside of her exploded like a 
three-pound shell, and the engineer shouted up 
through the voice-pipe that the shaft of the 
port screw was broken. Every one on board 
knew what had happened, because the boat 
slowed to half speed, and her head sagged off 
in the direction of the enemy's cruiser — which 
should have been blown up by this time, if the 
torpedo had found her. 

Seeing that it was impossible for them to 
escape the search-light, Lieutenant Rines 
launched a second torpedo ; and while No. 2 
was waiting to learn its effect, several unex- 
pected things occurred. First, the search-light 



MARK V. 



123 



of the enemy was mysteriously turned off, and, 
almost at the same time, Torpedo-Boat No. 2's 
stern collided with some mass of floating wreck- 
age, knocking into pieces the starboard screw, 
which was then her only working propeller. 
So the little vessel found herself tossing like a 
helpless golf-ball on the bosom of the sea, with 
the dull, winking lights of Porto Rico six 
miles abeam, and a hostile war-ship four hun- 
dred yards ahead. 

There was nothing to be done. Their plight 
was beyond repair, and their only hope was 
that the enemy, unaware of their presence, 
would pass on and leave them to be picked up 
by some friendly vessel. But it soon appeared 
that the enemy had no intentions of going 
away. The hostile cruiser had stopped, and 
Avas not steaming enough to make even 
steering-way. 

What was of more concern, she was drifting 
down on Torpedo-Boat No. 2, whose exis- 
tence must shortly become known to her. Act- 
ing with desperate haste, the crew of No. 2 
fired two more torpedoes at their big foe ; but 
they must have missed, because, after a few 
moments of appalling suspense, there was no 
explosion. With every breath they drew, No. 
2's crew expected to hear the riot of the cruis- 
er's rapid-firers, and the deafening crash of 
their shells bursting around them. Boxed up 
in a stifling death-trap, bruised, dizzy, and 
doomed, they endured all with the stoic hero- 
ism of American sailors. 

Only one torpedo was left, and that one was 
the whimsical, wayward, unreliable Mark V., 
who had always played them false in the hour 
of trial; so it was determined to postpone 
firing him as long as possible. 

Meanwhile the massive black hull of the ene- 
my's cruiser could be seen drifting nearer and 
nearer to luckless, crippled Torpedo-Boat No. 2. 
The suspense became frightful, and the mo- 
mentary dread of the hail of iron that would 
beat down upon them when the enemy discov- 
ered their presence was telling on No. 2's 
crew. The Jackies working the bow torpedo- 
tube looked beseechingly at Mark V. as they 
hoisted him into the tube and made ready to fire. 

Closer and closer came the ship of the enemy, 
and signs of approaching dawn made it impos- 



sible for Torpedo-Boat No. 2 to remain longer 
unseen. Lieutenant Rines reluctantly gave the 
word to fire their forlorn hope. 

As far as anybody on board could tell, Mark 
V. made a successful start. He did not stick, 
and he did not dive, but took his course for the 
hostile war-ship with his screw flying in a steady, 
businesslike way, traveling, as it was intended 
he should, about five feet submerged. Lieu- 
tenant Rines, the cadet, and the twelve Jackies 
waited with choking throats to hear the roar of 
his explosion ; but they waited in vain ; no ex- 
plosion came when it should have come; and 
the disheartened sailors laughed bitterly at 
themselves for thinking that freakish Mark V. 
would do better than the sensible torpedoes. 

No war-ship, big or little, ever flies a flag 
during the night ; but as it was very near dawn, 
and the enemy's guns would probably sink 
them in a minute or two, Lieutenant Rines 
thought it behooved them to go down with 
their colors flying. When he called for a vol- 
unteer to go out and hoist the Stars and 
Stripes, of course every man clamored to go. 
Rines was glad, because that gave him an ex- 
cuse to go out and do it himself. He floun- 
dered aft with a life-line tied around his body, 
and nailed Old Glory over the little vessel's 
stern. Though he was washed overboard, a 
dozen willing hands pulled him safely into the 
conning-tower. 

The storm had spent its strength, the wind 
abated, and the sea went down. At last the 
dawn came, pale and yellow, breaking over the 
waste of storm-beaten waters, like the crack 
of doom. In its weird, dim light the crew of 
Torpedo-Boat No. 2 saw towering, a pistol- 
shot away, the smoking, battered wreck of a great 
Spanish cruiser. Her armored sides were 
speckled and blotched with a hundred shot- 
holes; her turrets looked like collar-boxes 
knocked askew; and her smoke-stacks were 
like tall silk hats smashed and crumpled be- 
yond repair. Evidently she had been engaged 
in some fierce battle ; and her punishment was 
an awe-inspiring sight to behold. From bow- 
sprit to stern-post, her decks were littered with 
a chaotic mass of scrap-iron, splinters, and the 
debris of broken guns, while twisted steel gir- 
ders, deck -beams, and fragments of steel plates 



124 



MARK V. 



[Dec. 



hung dragging over her sides in festoons of 
wreckage. Such was the ship on which their 
five torpedoes had been wasted ! The only live 
thing on board seemed to be a man in the 
top of a solitary military mast, who was gestic- 
ulating and shouting like a maniac. With the 
exception of this poor fellow, the ship was de- 
serted and abandoned. 

As it grew lighter the crew of No. 2 was 
astonished by another strange sight. Half-way 
between them atid the wreck, Mark V. was seen 
bobbing up and down in the sea. Why he had 
stopped there, what he intended to do 
there, was beyond all guessing; but it was not 
pleasant or advisable to have him careering 
about between two helpless vessels drifting 
closer together each minute. 

Torpedo-Boat No. 2 was a bit of a wreck, 
also. On deck, the mount of her three-pounder 
rapid-fire gun had wrenched loose and washed 
away ; and all that remained of her two small 
deck-boats were their painters and some broken 
staves. 

The sea around was swarming with sharks, 
and several, seeing Mark V. tossing listlessly 
up and down, swam up to him, thrust their 
noses against him, and smelt him. One big 
shark tumbled him over and rolled him around; 
and three or four others actually joggled and 
pushed him, as if curious to find out what he 
was made of. Mark V. seemed to resent this 
treatment, and moved nearer the wreck of the 
Spanish cruiser. 

The whole crew of the torpedo-boat crowded 
forward, amazed and spellbound at this won- 
derful performance. They were powerless to 
go to the rescue of the one crazy sailor left on 
the wreck, — he who had probably worked the 
search-light which had given them so much 
concern the night before, — and they were un- 
able to move away themselves. But it was im- 
perative to destroy that floating torpedo imme- 
diately, before it could do them any harm. 

A dozen navy rifles were brought up, and the 
whole crew of No. 2 began to blaze away at 
reprehensible Mark V. But before he could 
be pinked in the right place the two ves- 
sels had drifted so close together, with the tor- 
pedo between them, that Lieutenant Rines 
gave peremptory orders to stop firing. 



In spite of their desperate situation, there was 
something so grimly humorous in the way the 
torpedo acted that the Jackies of No. 2 could 
not contain their laughter. 

Once a foolish little shark went up to Mark 
V. and gave a playful snap at his war-head; but 
Mark V. did not feel insulted enough to ex- 
plode. Finally a cross wave caught him up 
and tossed him within a dozen yards of the 
wrecked war-ship's side. 

Every now and then a wave would bump 
Mark V. broadside against the wreck; but 
somehow his war-head did not strike, and that 
was a very good thing for Torpedo-Boat No. 2 
and her crew, because by this time the vessels 
had drifted so close together that if Mark V. 
had exploded, Boat No. 2 would have been 
blown up with the war-ship, or swamped and 
buried under fallen wreckage. 

This time Mark V. was not blamed for refus- 
ing to blow up, and every man Jack in Torpedo- 
Boat No. 2 blessed his freakishness, and hoped 
he would not change his mind. Whenever he 
jostled against the side of the wreck, No. 2's 
Jackies shuddered; and when he perversely 
abstained from exploding, they shouted out 
their approval. The cadet and half a dozen 
sailors hung over No. 2's rail, armed with boat- 
hooks and fenders, waiting until they should drift 
close enough to Mark V. to secure and capture 
him ; and the grappling-gear was lowered, ready 
to quickly hoist him out of harm's way. 

All the trying experiences of the past night 
were forgotten in the danger of being blown up 
in broad daylight, with their eyes wide open, 
and by their own torpedo. 

So much was everybody taken up with 
watching Mark V., that no heed was paid to 
the poor deserted Spaniard on the wrecked 
war-ship or to anything else. And when Lieu- 
tenant Rines, whose eyes were everywhere, 
waived all decorum, and shouted joyously, 
" Hurrah, boys ! here comes one of our own 
ships ! " No, 2's crew was astonished to see a 
United States cruiser close up and bearing down 
upon them. 

Nevertheless, even then Mark V. remained 
the center of interest and attention. In a few 
minutes, if he did not explode and blow them 
all into eternity, Lieutenant Rines, who had 



i« 9 8.] 



MARK V. 



125 



rigged up a thirty-foot boat-hook, thought he 
could be captured. 

Seconds seemed hours while that erratic tor- 
pedo cannoned and thumped, again and again, 
against the wrecked war-ship's side; and at 
each collision death stared them in the face. 

While they watched Mark V.'s freakish antics, 
the reason why he had stopped short in his 
course became apparent : a big bunch of sea- 
weed could be seen tangled about his propeller. 

Lieutenant Rines had signaled the on-coming 
American cruiser to send a boat; but so inter- 
ested was every one on board Torpedo-Boat 
No. 2 in what Mark V. might do that they did 
not see the cruiser lower her steam-launch. 

Just as Lieutenant Rines was able to touch 
Mark V. with the long boat-hook, some peculiar 
joggle of the water unwound the seaweed from 
Mark V.'s screw, and the vicious creature started 
off through the water at a tremendous gait. 
He shot along the side of the wreck, and nearly 



ran into the steam-launch coming up to rescue 
No. 2's crew. Then, to the intense relief and 
satisfaction of everybody, he turned his nose 
toward the mid-Atlantic, and vanished like a 
phantom in clouds of flying scud. There came 
a few moments of suspense, and then a column 
of water shot into the air. Mark V. was no more. 

For some time no one was sane enough to 
speak, except the yelling Spaniard, who was 
imploring aid from the wreck. 

An immediate explanation was imperative, 
for the officer in the steam-launch was angrily 
demanding why they had tried to blow him up. 

As briefly as possible, Lieutenant Rines told 
what had happened ; and in a spirit of condo- 
lence and sympathy the officer replied: 

" Well, you have captured what is left of the 
best cruiser they had. She was foolish enough 
to try a brush with one of ours yesterday. And 
you are rid of that scoundrelly torpedo. So 
really, old chap, you ought to be thankful." 



TlHlEriFlTTRlE 




klety, 1 am the lire! 



crae 



craeKleiy, cree! 



Flickering, flickering, nioher and hig 
\t KbI is so pleasant to see? 

VYinler winds ma^ be Piping drearily, 
onovv in & blmaincj whirl , 

Come to me ana I'll w^ra yoix ekeeruy , 
. Dear little boy and. giA . 

^ — Scarlet and cfold my names 0*0 leaping, 
1_ . _ Sparkles glitter and die -, 

Curling, swirlintf, quivering, creeping, 
Ever at work am I . 

VVood or coal, however vou feed me, 
1m ^your friend whenever you need me, 



Roar away, soar away, hiG^erXh"i 
Cricklety, cracklety, 1 am the Hre! 



er. 




THE DREAM OF THE TOY. 



K.P. 



By Katharine Pyle. 



The Sandman lost a dream one night — 

A dream meant for a boy ; 
It floated round awhile, and then 

It settled on a Toy. 

The Toy dreamed that it stood in class 

With quite a row of boys; 
The teacher rapped upon his desk 

And cried, " Less noise ! less noise ! " 

Then, looking at the Toy, he scowled 
And said, " Next boy, — foretell." 
" Oh, please sir," cried the little Toy, 
" I don't know how to spell. 

" Indeed, I don't know how it is, 
I 'm sure I am a toy, 



Although I seem to be in class, 
And dressed up like a boy." 

" What 's that ? What 's that ? " the teacher cried- 
In awful tones he spoke; 
He came with strides across the floor, 
And then the Toy awoke. 

There lay the nursery very still, 

The shelf above its head; 
The fire burned dimly on the hearth, 

The children were in bed. 

There lay the dolls and Noah's Ark. 
" Oh, dear me," said the Toy, 
" I just had such a dreadful dream ! 
I dreamed I was a boy." 




THE KITTENS DANCING-LESSON. 
126 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



By George A. Henty. 



[This story was begun in the November number.] 

Chapter III. 

Panting and exhausted, the little party of 
colonists looked round to see who had entered 
and who had fallen without. Of the fifteen 
men and the score of young fellows between 
fifteen and twenty who had been counted as 
part of the defending force, but twelve had 
entered the house, and not one of these but 
bore marks of the desperate fray. No small 
portion of the number missing had not joined 
in the last struggle, but, taken by surprise, had 
been killed almost unresistingly when the 
Indians first obtained an entrance. All who 
were able had, according to the arrangements 
beforehand made, hurried to the main street as 
soon as they found that the outer defenses had 
already been carried, and by the steadiness 
with which they had kept together under 
the master had given time for many of the 
women and children to make their way into 
the house. Yet even this, the object for which 
they' had fought so stoutly, had but partial suc- 
cess, for, entering at a dozen points simultane- 
ously, the greater part of the redskins scattered 
at once, and not more than a third of the women 
and children had reached the refuge. There 
was, however, no time for determining who 
had been saved and who had fallen. 

"To the loopholes!" Master Neville shouted, 
"or we shall have fought our way here in vain." 

There remained but six harquebuses besides 
those in the hands of Guy and Shanti. These 
were the only firearms that had been discharged 
more than once, for there had been no time to 
reload, and the men had clubbed their pieces, 
and, all being powerful fellows, had found them 
more than a match for the Indian tomahawk 
and knife. At the master's words all shook off 
the feeling of horror and despair that had fallen 



upon them the instant their tremendous exer- 
tions had ceased and they had found themselves 
in shelter. Those who had firearms at once re- 
loaded them, and Guy ran down from above 
with a number of bows and a great sheaf of 
arrows that had been long lying in an attic. 
Since their arrival all the men had practised 
archery once a week, and all the boys had been 
trained in the use of the bow. 

In addition to the firearms originally brought 
out, Master Neville had since received twenty- 
five pairs of pistols from home. These had 
been kept in reserve at his house, for it was 
evident that should trouble arise with the 
natives, it was here that the defense must be 
made. A barrel of powder was brought up 
from the storehouse in the cellar and opened, 
together with a great bag of bullets, that had 
been cast by the women during the past week. 
So far, after the first rush at the door, no attack 
had been made, the Indians having scattered 
to gather plunder, and to kill any who might 
have lingered too long in their houses to make 
their escape. The master went round the 
house assigning each man and boy to a post, 
keeping six in the downstairs chamber, ready to 
hurry to any point where the enemy might be 
attacking most vigorously. 

Great fires were made up, and the women 
set over them water to boil, in every vessel that 
would contain it. Others pumped at the well, 
that had been sunk in the floor of the kitchen 
when the house was first built, so as to be 
available in case of an emergency like the 
present. The pails, as fast as they were drawn 
up, were carried to a great, square, wooden 
cistern in the roof. The house had been ori- 
ginally built with an eye to defense. Master 
Neville had been aware that in case of an 
Indian war, defense might be fruitless ; for, re- 
moved from any possibility of succor, and with 
a certainty that other colonists would be in as 



127 



128 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Dec. 



perilous a position as himself, it was only against 
attacks by any band of marauding Indians that 
he could hope for success, until the chiefs with 
whom he had established terms of friendship 
could come to his assistance ; and it was with 
this view, and to some extent with the idea 
that in case of the worst he and his men 
would sell their lives dearly, that he had planned 
his house. 

It was a square, solidly built structure, com- 
posed of massive logs, carefully squared, laid 
on one another and pinned together. On the 
ground floor each of the logs was two feet square, 
and he believed that these could resist any body 
of fire that the Indians could pile against them. 

On this floor there was but one door. This 
was flush with the outside, was composed of 
four-inch planks, and opened outward ; but it 
was not upon its thickness that he depended. 
Above the door was fixed a pair of hinges of 
great strength. Above this was a second door, 
eighteen inches thick. This hung against the 
wall, and was held there by a strong catch. The 
room had been built over twelve feet high to 
permit of this arrangement. Beyond the fact 
that once, every six months, the catch had been 
lifted, and a dozen men had stood at the ropes 
by which it was hauled up- and allowed it to 
fall down into its place, to see that it was in 
proper working order, it had never been used 
until now. When it was dropped, precisely 
filling up the aperture, flush with the inside 
walls, and the massive bolts were lowered into 
the holes in the lower frame, a feeling of com- 
parative security was experienced. 

The hall was lighted by a line of loopholes, 
eight feet from the ground. Four and a half 
feet below these was a shelf on which the de- 
fenders could stand to shoot. The loopholes 
were considerably wider inside than at the 
outer face, both to admit more air and light 
into the room, and to enable the defenders to 
command a wider extent of ground. On the 
floor above, the windows were large, but were 
furnished with thick shutters pierced by loop- 
holes. The logs employed in the erection of 
this part of the house were but nine inches 
square. The roof, instead of being constructed 
as usual, was very steep, and formed, like the 
upper story, of nine-inch logs, very carefully 



squared and fitting closely together. Over them 
a sheet of canvas was nailed to prevent the wet 
from penetrating between the interstices. This 
roof had the double advantage of keeping the 
house cool in summer and warm in winter, and 
of being fire -proof ; for were the canvas lighted, 
it would scarcely singe the face of the wood. 

At distances of six feet apart, near the ridge 
of the roof, was a series of small dormer open- 
ings, through which water could, if necessary, 
be poured down the surface. These served the 
purpose of ventilation, and the attic room was 
used as the general storehouse for tobacco and 
other products. 

After seeing that everything was in readiness, 
Master Neville called Guy to him. 

" You did well to keep the door, Guy. You 
would have done no good had you been with 
us, and had it not been for those two heavy 
discharges of balls, I do not think that any of us 
would have got in here alive. However, it is 
but postponing the end, for there is no doubt 
what it must come to. That these savages will 
show any mercy is altogether beyond hope. I 
have no question that the movement is a gen- 
eral one, and it is probable that at the present 
moment those in this house are the last surviv- 
ing whites in Virginia. We may defend our- 
selves stoutly; we may kill numbers of the red- 
skins; but in the end the result must be the 
same. If we were fighting with a civilized foe, 
whose word could be trusted, we might hold 
out long enough to obtain terms for ourselves ; 
but as they have shown now, and have shown 
before, no trust whatever can be placed in 
their word ; and I would rather bring up all the 
powder from the storeroom and blow the house 
into the air, than yield on the promise of our 
lives being spared. We have heard of the hor- 
rible tortures these people inflict upon their 
prisoners, and when the time comes that we 
can resist no longer, we will perish in the ruins 
of the blockhouse." 

" I wonder they don't attack us, father." 

" Without doubt they are perfectly aware 
of the strength of the building. The house has 
always been open, and all received a welcome 
whenever they chose to come. You may be 
sure that they have noticed the overhanging 
frame, and have taken note that when lowered 



■] 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



I29 



into its place it would make the door as strong one of the shutter-holes in the upper story, 
as any other part of the building. Many of " They will not burn the village, but keep it in- 
them were present at the time that we erected tact as a shelter for the besiegers. I am curi- 
it, and indeed took part in the work ; for I paid ous to know how they will begin ; for I tell you 
the chiefs what was to 
them a considerable 
amount in goods, to 
send a number of their 
people to help us in the 
work. It was not much 
help that they really 
gave us, for if there is 
one thing that the red- 
skin hates, it is work 
of any kind, except 
hunting and paddling 
a canoe. 

" Still, it kept them 
friendly, and their 
squaws did enough 
field-work for us to 
keep us supplied with 
food, while the men 
felled the trees and 
squared the logs. As 
it was, it took us a full 
year before it was com- 
pleted ; for after the 
lower story was built 
we took matters quiet- 
ly, feeling that we had 
already a castle that 
could defy any ordi- 
nary assault." 

Day was breaking. 
The houses that had 
been first fired had 
burned themselves out, 
and no others had 
been lighted. Often 
an arrow was shot 
through a loophole 
from a window of one 




"MASTER NEVILLE THREW OPEN THE SHUTTER OF A WINDOW. 'WHAT HAVE YOU 
TO SAY, ATTAH QUEBRA ? ' HE SAID." (SEE NEXT PAGE.) 



or other of the houses round, but not an Indian 
showed himself after the light had once broad- 
ened; for several had already been killed by 
arrows or shots from the harquebuses as soon 
as their figures could be perceived. 

"They know what they are doing," Master 
Neville said to his son, as he looked out from 
Vol. XXVI.— 17. 



fairly that, though I have seen something of 
war in the Low Countries, I should be puzzled 
if I had to attack this place without cannon ; 
and to these Indians it must seem a castle of 
immense strength." 

" You have no hope of their going away, 
father, and leaving us to ourselves ? " 



13° 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Dec. 



"Not the slightest. This fellow, who is their 
great war chief, has waited patiently for four 
years since his brother's death, and has all the 
time maintained an appearance of friendship 
that has deceived us all. Nothing could have 
been better laid than his plans. Had it not 
been for the warning Ponta gave you, we should 
all have been massacred without a shot being 
fired. They must know that we have enough 
corn in store to last us for a year, and that there 
is no fear of water running short. Had it been 
otherwise, they would doubtless have tried to 
starve us out. As it is, I believe that they will 
try some stratagem." 

Two hours later an Indian, holding a green 
bough in his hand, stepped out from one of the 
houses, and stood motionless in the middle of 
the street. Master Neville threw open the 
shutter of a window facing that way, and waved 
a white cloth. Two chiefs, unarmed, at once 
stepped from the house and, followed by the 
bearer of the emblem of peace, advanced to 
within twenty yards. 

" The rascals ! " Neville muttered. " I won- 
der, after their doings last night, they dare to 
show themselves even under the shelter of a 
flag of truce." 

" What have you to say, Attah Quebra ? " he 
said aloud. " I wonder, after attacking us as 
you have done, you venture to show yourselves." 

" We have no enmity against the Sachem 
Neville," one of the chiefs said. " We love 
him, for he has been always true to his prom- 
ises, and no Indian has ever suffered harm at 
his hands. But it has not been so with others. 
A few white men came to our shores; they asked 
leave to build houses and till the land. Our 
fathers gave them leave. But others have come, 
more and more ; they have spread over our 
land ; they have turned our woods into planta- 
tions ; they have driven away the game ; they 
held themselves as if they were masters of our 
land. Life became so hard with us that we 
must either have moved away altogether or die. 
Where were we to go ? Other tribes would 
have refused to give us their hunting-grounds, 
and we should have to fight against our breth- 
ren. Thus, then, we saw that either we must 
fight against the men of our own race and 
strive to take their land, or we must destroy 



these white men who have possessed themselves 
of ours, and who, not content with despoiling 
us, treated us as if we were dogs beneath their 
feet. We have made our choice. Clouds of 
smoke rise from every spot where the white men 
had planted themselves, and heaps of ashes 
alone remain of their homes ; but our hearts are 
soft toward the man who has treated us as 
friends, and we say to him, ' The way is open to 
you to the sea. Go down with those with you, 
and none shall harm you on the way. There 
are ships on the Powhatan River. Take one 
of these, and sail away to your own land.' 
Attah Quebra has spoken." 

"Your words are fair, chief, but they agree 
not with your actions. If you had such esteem 
as you profess for me, why did you not come 
with your green bough yesterday, and say, ' To- 
night every settlement will be attacked, and 
every white man slain; but because you have 
been true to your promises, and your doors 
have always been open, and no Indian has ever 
been denied food, therefore you and yours shall 
to-morrow have free passage to the river, and a. 
ship to carry you away ' ? Had you said this, I 
might have believed your words; but instead of 
this, what did you do ? You have attacked us 
treacherously ; you have killed more than half 
my men ; you have cruelly murdered many of 
my women and children ; and had it not been 
that some of us escaped here, there would not 
have been one white left to see the sun rise this 
morning. 

" I can have no faith in your promises. 
Have not you and the other chiefs vowed friend- 
ship with us ? Have you not over and over 
again been my guests here ? And yet, in spite 
of all, you have thus attacked us. Weak in- 
deed should I be did I believe in the faith of 
those who have broken all faith ; who have 
proved themselves perfidious and treacherous ; 
and who now seek with false words to tempt 
me to leave the place where I can defend my- 
self against you. Come to me again ; bring 
with you your king's children, and those of all 
your great chiefs; hand them to me as hos- 
tages to be held by us until we are embarked 
on board a ship, and I will listen to you and 
trust you. But without such guaranty nothing 
shall tempt me to leave a place I can defend, 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



131 



were every redskin in Virginia to join in the 
attack against me. I have spoken." 

The chief bent his head. " The house of 
the white sachem is strong," he said, " but 
the sachem puts too great a trust in it. He 
may one day regret that he has refused our 
offer." Then the two chiefs turned and, with- 
out once looking back, retired to the house 
from which they had come. 

Chapter IV. 

The day passed slowly in the besieged house. 
In the first place, the wounds of the defenders 
were properly attended to and bandaged. Then 
a mournful silence reigned. Some of the men 
had found their wives and children among 
those who had gained the house, but in the 
majority of cases they had lost all they loved. 
So, among the women, the greater portion of 
them were widowed. The very strength of the 
place added to the general depression. Action 
of any kind would have been welcome. Every 
man was thirsting for revenge, and the enforced 
inactivity goaded them well-nigh to madness. 
In the afternoon Master Neville called them 
all together. 

" My friends," he said, " I know what you are 
all feeling, and, indeed, I do not wish to dis- 
guise from you that the prospect is as dark as it 
can be. There is indeed one feeble hope, namely, 
that some of our fellow-countrymen may have 
managed to gain their ships and to make down 
the river. When they reach England with the 
news, it will be as it has been before. An 
expedition will be fitted out, without loss of 
time, to retrieve this disaster and to punish the 
Indians. As the company will know that a 
very strong force will be needed for the pur- 
pose, we may be sure that a very strong force 
will be sent; and by it we may sooner or later 
be rescued. But months must elapse before 
this can happen, and, until then, we must bear 
ourselves as men and as Englishmen, firmly 
and bravely trusting in God to send rescue to 
us in time. 

" What we have to fight against is not the 
Indians, but against our own feelings. We must 
not let dejection, still less despair, enter here. I 
know what you are thinking, and I have the 



same feeling. Had we but ourselves to con- 
sider, we would sally out and die fighting ; but 
we have here, under our charge, very many 
women and children, and for their sake we 
must be strong and patient. We may hope that 
the Indians will give us something to do. It is 
not likely that they will content themselves with 
blockading us here, for they know that we have 
large stores of provisions. 

" What devices they will attempt I know 
not; but they are crafty as well as brave, 
and we may be sure that we shall not be 
left in peace. When they shall attack us we 
shall have opportunities, of which we will make 
the most, to punish them for the evil that they 
have wrought us. We, on our part, need not 
remain altogether inactive ; if we find that they 
do not attack us, we ourselves will take the 
offensive and strike a blow at them. They 
know that we are weak, and will scarce expect 
us to attack them; but they do not know 
what white men can do. When some little time 
has passed, and they are lulled in security, we 
will make a sortie at night, surround one or two 
of the houses nearest, rush in, and slay all there, 
and then retire before an overwhelming force 
can arrive against us." 

There was a movement of satisfaction, and 
a chorus of approval among the men. 

" We will not sally out by means of the door," 
the master went on. " We have the great baskets 
in which we take the tobacco up to the store- 
room, and the pulleys and ropes that we use. 
We can easily descend by them at night from 
the windows above at the other side of the 
house. The women can lower us and pull us 
up again, and so we can fall upon the Indians 
where they are least expecting us. Half the 
number must go, and the rest remain at the win- 
dows, with bow and harquebus, so as to cover 
the retreat of the assaulting party. If we choose 
a night when the wind is blowing strongly, and 
take with us bundles of straw dipped in pitch, 
we could fire half a dozen houses, and the flames 
will spread throughout the village. One or 
two such expeditions, and we may, with God's 
help, destroy all their shelters, and be able, in 
the daytime, to move out of the house without 
fear of attack. Great things can be accom- 
plished by a body of determined men, and 



132 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Dec. 



whatever can be done, I think that we are the 
men' to do it." 

Whether Master Neville believed it possible 
to carry out the plans he had sketched is 
doubtful ; but his speech answered its purpose, 
which was to stir the spirits of the men and 
give them something to plan and think of. The 
air of dejection and hopelessness vanished at 
once, and was succeeded by one of grim deter- 
mination. Men shook hands silently, as if 
pledging themselves to bear their part to the 
death. That night the man on the lookout at 
one of the high windows in the roof, saw a 
number of little flames of fire flash suddenly up 
from the village. While he was wondering 
what this meant, some two score of arrows, with 
blazing tow wrapped round their points, fell on 
the roof. He at once gave the alarm. The 
men all rushed up, each as he came filling a 
bucket from the cistern, and then ascended to 
the platform, three feet wide, that ran along be- 
low the windows. Already the canvas was alight 
in a number of places. 

" Do not throw the water out," their master 
shouted. " Better let the canvas burn ; if we 
don't, we shall have an alarm every night. The 
fire will do no harm to the wood, and when it 
is once burned they may shoot as many arrows 
as they like, without any fear of the timber 
catching fire." 

In a minute the roof was a sheet of flame, 
and the yells of the Indians rose high in 
triumph. This, however, was short-lived, for 
in almost as short a time the flames died out 
again. Their light, however, had proved fatal 
to eight or ten natives ; for, as these came out 
of the houses to watch the result, the defend- 
ers below, and those above, all of whom had 
brought up their arms, seized an opportunity of 
firing a shot or loosing an arrow. When the 
canvas had burned out there still remained a 
few spots where light, flickering flames showed 
that some little unevenness at the joints of the 
timber had caught fire. 

" Now empty your buckets!" Master Neville 
cried to the men ; and in a minute or two the 
last sparks were extinguished, and the men 
returned below, well satisfied that some, at 
least, of their assailants had fallen at their 
hands. No lights whatever were shown in the 



upper story, for the Indians shot their arrows so 
thickly through the loopholes in the shutters 
that it was dangerous in the extreme to show a 
light in the room behind. On the ground floor 
the lights were kept burning all night, for arrows 
that entered the loopholes there simply struck 
the beams of the ceiling and there remained 
fixed, and, being pulled out next day, added to 
the store of ammunition of the besieged. 

At nine o'clock on the fourth evening of the 
siege the men on watch on the first floor 
reported that, although they could see nothing, 
they could hear various movements outside. 
The men were at once called to the loopholes. 
A ball as big as a man's head, composed of old 
rope, soaked in pitch and thickly coated with 
gunpowder, was lighted and thrown out of the 
window. Its light betrayed a number of Indians 
carrying great fagots, beams of wood, trusses 
of maize, brush, and other materials. The guns 
flashed out. This time the natives did not 
retreat, but, throwing their burdens to the 
ground, lay down behind them and replied to 
the fire with volleys of arrows. Fire-ball after 
fire-ball was thrown ; but the Indians held their 
ground, and kept up so continuous a flight of 
arrows from behind every wall, house, and 
shelter that the besieged were unable to take 
a steady aim, still less to see what was really 
being done below. 

" They must be up to something, Guy," his 
father said. " They would not run the risk that 
they are taking unless an advantage was to be 
gained by it. I am beginning to feel uneasy. 
We have had a man killed, and four others 
wounded. I see now we made a mistake in 
placing the shutters inside the windows instead 
of outside. If they had been outside, by opening 
one a few inches we should be able to look 
down ; whereas now it cannot be done without 
opening them so wide that it would be certain 
death for any one to show himself. These 
demons make such a terrible noise with their 
yelling that there is no hearing any other 
sound." 

It had indeed been a terrible mistake, when 
the house was built, that a projection had not 
been thrown out over the doorway, so that the 
defenders might not only look down through 
a trap-door, but throw out missiles or boiling 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



l 33 



water over any attacking the door. Experience 
afterward taught the settlers always to con- 
struct their log houses with such means of de- 
fending the entrance ; but at the time Master 



had kept along close by the side of the house, 
and so entered the shadow behind. When the 
last fire-ball burned out no more were thrown, 
but presently those at the loopholes were con- 




" ARMING THEMSELVES AS MASTER NEVILLE HAD DIRECTED, THEY RAN UP THE STAIRS, HALF BLINDED 
AND NEARLY SUFFOCATED BY THE THICK SMOKE." (SEE PAGE 135.) 



Neville established himself there they were 
altogether ignorant of the Indian tactics. 

About midnight a horn sounded, and in- 
stantly the crowd of natives leaped to their feet, 
seized their burdens, and rushed toward the 
door. Several fell, but the rush continued 
until about two or three hundred men had 
carried out their purpose. None were seen to 
retire, and the besieged had no doubt that they 



fident that men with lighted torches were pass- 
ing along below them. A minute later there 
was a flash, and the ground in from of the 
house was lighted up as if by daylight. 

" They have fired the wood, Guy, and I fear 
that the lookout is a bad one. For aught we 
know, all the time that we have been exchang- 
ing fire with the forty or fifty men lying behind 
their bundles in front of us, hundreds may have 



134 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Dec. 



been coming and going along the foot of the 
wall ; and the pile may be so huge a one that 
even these thick timbers, especially as they are 
dry with fifteen years' sun, may catch." 

The natives had, indeed, raised a bank of in- 
flammable materials, containing a large propor- 
tion of heavy beams and logs taken from the 
huts farthest from the house, nearly to the 
level of the loopholes. Along the whole front 
a dense smoke at once poured in, and soon a 
sheet of flame rose before each loophole. Arms 
were laid aside ; the women drew pails of water 
from the well; the men dashed water out at the 
loopholes, while others, going up to the store- 
room, poured water from the cistern through 
the windows, so that, running down the roof, 
it might fall upon the mass of fire below. Soon, 
however, the smoke in the upper part of the 
house became so intolerable that all assembled 
in the rooms behind the hall, where the heat 
was rapidly becoming unbearable. 

" Men," Master Neville said, " 't is but too 
clear that the natives have succeeded. In this 
strait your opinions are worth as much as mine. 
What shall we do ? We cannot sally out through 
the door ; but we men might lower ourselves by 
ropes from the story above and die fighting, 
though you may be sure that escape is out of 
the question; they will be gathered thickly all 
round the house, and will cut us off if we at- 
tempt to escape. Those who have women and 
children here will, I know, prefer to perish with 
them. The others may, if they choose, descend 
and fight; but they must bear in mind that 
unless they are killed their fate will be a hun- 
dredfold more terrible than that which we 
shall meet here. We have at least the choice 
of alternatives. Those who like may ascend 
to the rooms above, where assuredly they will 
die of suffocation long before the flames reach 
them. I myself intend to bring all our powder 
— of which we have three barrels — up here, 
and at the last moment to fire my pistol into 
it and blow up the building. The one death 
is an easy one, the other a swift one. I would 
recommend the women to take their children 
upstairs, to sit down upon the floor there, and 
to pray as long as sense remains to them. 
Those who love them can go with them, while 
we who have no ties will gather round the 



powder. All who like to make the attempt to 
escape are free to do so." 

" ' T is well said, master," one of the oldest 
of the men said. " I would fain die fight- 
ing; but since it cannot be so, we must even 
take the death that is sent us. My wife and 
children have gone before me. I will wait here 
with you ; let those who have women and chil- 
dren mount the stairs." 

There was a murmur of assent ; among the 
women there were a few sobs, but none showed 
craven fear of death. 

" God bless you all, my friends," Master 
Neville said. " Now let us say a short prayer, for 
time presses. Even here it is difficult to breathe, 
and the fire is creeping through all the loopholes." 

All fell on their knees, and the master 
said a few words of earnest prayer that God 
would take them all painlessly to himself. 
" Now let us sing " ; and he began one of the 
hymns that they were accustomed to sing at 
their Sunday gatherings. Still singing, the wo- 
men, and the men who belonged to them, 
made their way upstairs, carrying their children 
with them. Then the master moved aside with 
Guy, who was standing next to him. 

" Now, Guy, I can trust you, can I not, to 
obey my last commands ? " 

" Surely, father." 

" Then, my son, I order you to attempt to es- 
cape, taking Shanti with you. I gave the choice 
to the others ; none have accepted it, and I 
think that they were wise. I consider it possi- 
ble, however, that you and the black may make 
your way through. You and he are accus- 
tomed to the woods ; you are hunters, and would 
be able to exist where any of these poor fellows 
would die of hunger. I know that the chances 
of your getting through are small ; and I say to 
you, put two loaded pistols in your belt, and 
should the savages catch you, place one to your 
head and draw the trigger. It is not lawful to 
take one's own life, but when the choice is be- 
tween doing so and dying by horrible tortures, 
I consider the act is justifiable." 

" I would rather stay and share your fate, 
father." 

" I believe you, Guy ; but you will, I know, 
obey my order. I have faith that you will es- 
cape, and the hope will lighten my last moments. 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



135 



I have placed a rope at the window above. 
Take your bow and arrows, your pistols and 
sword, and tell Shanti to do the same. He is 
devoted and intelligent, and his companion- 
ship will be invaluable. Bid him also shoot 
himself without hesitation if he should fall into 
the hands of the redskins. Now go, lad, lose 
no moment; the smoke grows more and more 
stifling." 

" Why should you not come, too, father? If 
we can escape, why should not you ? " Guy 
said, with sudden hope. 

" It is my duty to stay here, Guy, with those 
whom I brought out into this wilderness with 
me. They have trusted me and have always 
been faithful to me, and I share their fate. 



And now farewell. May God keep and protect 
you, my son, and take you safely home through 
all the dangers that will beset you, even when 
once away from here ! " 

Guy knelt at his father's feet, took his hand 
and kissed it; and then, as the latter turned 
away to see about the powder, he joined Shanti 
and told his faithful friend what his father had 
ordered. 

The black face lighted up. " Dat right, 
Massa Guy," Shanti exclaimed ; " no good 
stop here to be roasted. We get through dose 
red debils, neber fear." 

Arming themselves as Master Neville had 
directed, they ran up the stairs, half blinded 
and nearly suffocated by the thick smoke. 



{To be continued.) 




SANTA CLAUS CAUGHT AT LAST ! 








By Oliver Herford. 



Mrs. Rabbit. 



CHARACTERS. 
Topsy. Mr. Fox. Snowball. Bun. 
Scene. — Interior of Mrs. Rabbit's house. 



Policeman. 



Enter Mrs. Rabbit. 
Mrs. R. 

Children, where are you ? Snowball ! Topsy ! 

Bun! 
Oh, dear! oh, dear! Where underneath the 

sun 
Can they be gone ? I ordered them to stay 
Inside the garden. Only yesterday 
The red fox passed beside our very 

gate. 
Alas! I fear they 've met some 

dreadful fate. 



I 've half a mind to send you all to bed 
Without your supper, as some mothers 

would. 
But no ; if you will promise to be good, 
And never stir a foot outside the door, 
I '11 bring you all a present from the 

store. 
Now I must off to market, dears, and you 
See that the door is locked; and bolted, 
too; 
And do not open it, whoever knocks, 
Unless you 're sure it is n't Mr. Fox. 
And now, dears, for a little while, 
good-by. 

[Kisses them.) 
Snow. 

will be good, mama. 
Top. And I. 

Bun. And I. 



{Exit Mrs. Rabbit.) 

> Snow. {Locks and bolts the door). 

Sister and brother, let us 
^i^-,^^**" ]\ ^^y tr y t0 see 

How very, very good we 
all can be. 
Suppose we sit quite still, and do a piece 
Of sewing. 
Top. 

No; let 's play at fox and geese. 
Ah, here they come! Children, where Bun. 

No ; let us play at dinner-party. I 





If only they were safe inside the door, 
I 'd never, never scold them any more! 

Enter Snowball, Topsy, and Bun. 



have you been ? 
Such naughtiness I 've never, never seen! 
You know as well as I it was not right 
Of you to give your mother such a fright! 
How could you pay no heed to all I 've said? 



Know where mama has hid the pumpkin- 
pie. 

I wonder what she '11 bring us from the 
store ? {A knock at the door.) 



136 



FOX AND GEESE : A DRAMA. 



137 



Snow. 

What 's that ? I 'm sure there 's some one 
at the door. {Louder knock.) 

Bun. 

Oh, dear ! I am afraid. Who can it be ? 

{Louder still.) 
Snow. 

Be quiet, Bun! [Louder knock.) 

Top. 

Let 's open it and see. 
Snow. 

How can you talk so ? Has your reason fled ? 
Have you forgotten all our mother said ? 
Top. [Goes to unbolt door). 

I '11 open it a teeny-weeny bit. 
Bun. 

Don't let her, Snowball; I shall have a fit. 
Snow. 

Topsy, come back ! It might be Mr. Fox. 
Top. 

I '11 only just peek through the letter-box. 

[Topsy peeks through letter-box.) 

Snow, and Bun [Huddling together in farther 

part of room). 

Who is it? What's that? Louder! I can't hear. 

Gruff Voice [Outside). 

I 'm your Aunt Susan. Don't you know 

me, dear? 
I 've come a long, long way, a 

your ma to see. 



Top. 

Snowball, just 
look ! I 'm sure 
it must be she. 



She wears a great big hat, green veil and all, 

Just like Aunt Susan's picture on the wall. 

[Points to picture on 7vall of aunt dressed 

as described.' 





Snow. [Looking timidly through letter-box). 
It is indeed, to judge by how she 's dressed. 
See if she knows our names; that 's a sure 
test. 
Top. 

Can you repeat our names ? For if you can't 
It 's very certain you are not our aunt. 
Voice. 

I know them almost better than my own, 
But just this mo- 
ment from my 
head they 've 
flown. 
Even my own name 
sometimes I 
forget; 
But no face ever 
has escaped me 
yet. 
Dear me ! I 've come 
so far, and my 
paws ache 
Carrying this heavy 
bag of fruit and 
cake. 




Vol. XXVI 



FOX AND GEESE : A DRAMA. 



[Dec. 



138 

JB UN- Aunt {Aside). 

What, fruit and cake? Quick, Topsy, let Am I discovered? {Aloud) I have not 

h er j n j much skill 

To keep our dear aunt waiting were a sin. At games, but yet I think I '11 fill the 

Top. ( Opens bill. 

door.) ( They play fox and geese.) 

Come in, dear Aunt {Roughly). 

aunt; sit Now run, or I will eat you sure enough. 

down, and let Snow {Aside). 

me take That 's not our aunt; her voice is far too 




gruff; 
Our aunt cannot have grown to such a 

size. 
Suppose it is the red fox, in disguise! 
What shall I do ? Oh, I shall lose my 
wits ! 

( Catches sight of hunting-horn hanging 
on wall.) 
Aha ! I know a tune will give him fits. 

{Steals out with horn, unobserved 
by others, who are engrossed in 
game.) 
Oh, not at all! Take it, my pretty dear; Aunt {Catching hold of 'Bun). 
And, if you do not mind, I think perhaps I 've caught you, and am going to eat you 
I 'd rather not remove my hat and wrap. now ! 

I have a cold, and I am such a sight! {Throws back veil, showing fox's face.) 

If I took off my veil you 'd all take fright. Bun. 
Now, tell me, how 's your ma? I hope, Help! Murder! 



Your hat and 
things. 
Bun. 

And let me 
take the 
cake. 
Snow. 

Excuse him, 
aunt; he has 
been spoiled, 
I fear. 
Aunt {Handing Bun the box). 



^^3 



4^x 



my dear, 
She 's well. 
Snow. 

Mama will soon be here; 

She 's just 

gone to the 

store to buy 

some bread. 

Bun. 

To buy us all 
a present, 
too, she 

said. 
Aunt. 

What were 
you doing? 
Can I be of 
use? 
Top. 

We 're going to play a game of fox and 

goose. 
You can be fox, dear aunty, if you will. 



Top. It 's the fox! 

{Runs.) 
/<£&S-^>. Fox {Catches Topsy with 
other paw). 
Here, stop that row ! 





ttfH?? 



{Drags them toward the door. Sud- 
denly a hunter's horn is heard. He 
drops Topsy and Bun.) 
What 's that? 



FOX AND GEESE : A DRAMA. 



139 




Top. I chanced just now to hear your bugle blow; 

It is the hunter's He is the most notorious wretch I know, 
horn. {Exit Policeman, with Fox.) 

Bun. Hurray! Mrs. R. {Heard calling outside). 



Fox. 

{Aside.) 
I fear they 've 
got me this 
time. 

{Hurriedly, 
aloud) Well, 
good day. 
've an engage- 
ment I almost 
forgot. 

'm sure you 
will excuse me, 
will you not ? 
Sorry I can't arrange to stay and dine; 
I do assure you that the loss is mine. 

{Starts for door.) 

Enter Dog, dressed as policeman. 

Police. {Addressing Fox). 

Stop ! You 're arrested ! You must come 
with me ! 

You 're wanted for a barn-yard burglary, 

And other crimes too numerous to state. 
{To Snowball) 

As for you youngsters, it is fortunate 



The Fox! What does it mean? 
he done ? 

Enters, running. 



What has 



Snowball ! 



Children, where are you 

Topsy ! Bun ! 
Thank goodness you are safe. Oh, I have 

had 
A fright enough to drive a body mad. 
A glass of water, quick ! And, Topsy, run 
And get my smelling-salts and fan; and, Bun, 
Stop eating cake, and lock and bolt that door. 
Now, children, sit close round me on the 

floor, 
And tell me how it happened. Then I '11 read 
A book I 've bought, you will do well to 

heed. 
It 's just come out ; they say it 's very good. 
It 's called — let 's see — 

{Rumtnages in bag for some time ; gets 
out book, wipes spectacles, puts them 
on, examines title of book and spells 
out the name.) 

"Little Red Riding-hood." 

{Curtain.) 




(^74-^^, 




"he 's dressed like a prince," said the dragon, said he, 
"but i ne'er dreamed a prince so ugly could be!" 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



By E. H. House. 



r This story was begun in the November number. ] 

Chapter III. 

ROMAN WEALTH AND WASTE. 

" That question about the chicken and the 
egg," remarked Percy, after the dumplings had 
been distributed, " makes me think of the stu- 
dent who wanted to know if a knife wkich had 
lost its blade and had a new one put in, was 
the same knife as before. When he was told 
that it was, he puzzled his professor by asking 
if it would still be the same when the handle 
wore out, and another was fitted." 

" Well, Percy, the very oldest Athenians 
wasted time and wore out their wits on just 
such a question," said Uncle Claxton. "They 
tried to preserve a ship in which their first 
great king, Theseus, made a famous voyage ; 
and they pieced it so often with new wood that, 
like our frigate, the ' Constitution,' nothing was 
left of the original. The wise Greeks thought 
it a fine thing to discuss, from age to age, whe- 
ther it was the same ship or not." 

" That," suggested Amy, " may have been 
foolish, but it was not so bad as giving ten 
thousand dollars for a dinner." 

" Oh, ten thousand ! " said her uncle. " I 
have not told you the worst, by a great deal. 
Many of the Romans went far beyond that. I 
can give you a few instances, and you will see 
that Lucullus was not nearly so great a spend- 
thrift as many who lived in that age. There 



were cases ten times worse than his. Ten 
times ? Why, yes, — twenty — thirty — forty 
times. Ten thousand dollars was all that he 
paid for the 'Apollo' dinner, but the Emperor 
Caligula once laid out something like four 
hundred thousand dollars on a single supper; 
and another emperor, Vitellius, lived several 
months at the rate of nearly three hundred 
thousand dollars a day, all spent in eating 
and drinking. What do you say to that ? " 

"I say," answered Percy, "that his name 
should be Victuals, instead of Vitellius." 

" Unless they ate money itself," said Harry, 
" I don't see how they got rid of so much." 

"Some noted persons did almost the same 
thing. Can't you think of a case ? " 

" Why, yes," cried Amy; " the pearl of Cleo- 
patra." 

" Good girl ! you have it. The pearl which 
Cleopatra drank to Antony's health was valued 
at nearly four hundred thousand dollars, so at 
one mouthful she disposed of as much as the 
cost of Caligula's supper. I suppose that was 
the most valuable pearl we have any knowledge 
of; though Julius Caesar owned one worth two 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which he 
gave to the mother of Brutus, — the same Bru- 
tus who afterward helped to kill Caesar. Pearls 
seem to have held out particular temptations to 
people who took pleasure in wasteful follies, 
perhaps because no other jewel could be so 
easily swallowed. 

" Cleopatra's prank was not the first of its 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



141 



kind. The same absurdity had been com- 
mitted by a silly fellow in Rome named ^Esop — 
not your favorite fable-teller, for Jie lived cen- 
turies earlier, and was a very wise man. The 
Roman ^Esop was the son of a rich actor, and, 
just to make himself talked about, he took a 
pearl from the ear-drop of Cascilia, the wife of 
the tyrant Sylla, and, according to writers of 
that age, drank it in vinegar. I believe that 
the possibility of dissolving this kind of gem 
is disputed by many modern authorities, but 
the ancients appear to have had no doubt on 
the subject, for the instances recorded by them 
were numerous, and were attested by men of 
scientific standing. A Japanese naturalist, who 
has studied pearls minutely, states that he has 
found them of such various quality and struc- 
ture that the existence of specimens which 
might be melted does not seem to him incon- 
ceivable. But whether ^Esop liquefied his 
pearl or not, the performance certainly cost 
him a sum equivalent to forty thousand dollars 
— quite enough, though nothing in comparison 
with what Cleopatra squandered. Hers was the 
wildest piece of extravagance that I can recall. 

" It was the fashion to be extravagant then. 
Mark Antony was not far behind the Egyptian 
queen in that respect, though his fancy was not 
for beverages flavored by trinkets. Substan- 
tial food was more in his line. A visitor who 
once went into the kitchen of his palace 
in Alexandria saw eight wild boars roasting 
at the same time, and thought there must 
be an immense number of guests expected; 
but the cook told him only twelve persons 
would dine that day, and the reason of the 
extensive preparation was that no one could say 
exactly when Antony would go to the table. 
But whenever he gave the signal, the meat 
must be just in proper condition at that mo- 
ment. So it was the rule to get ready a series 
of dinners, overlapping one another, you might 
say, at intervals of fifteen or twenty minutes. 
Only one could be eaten, and the rest were 
wasted ; but the waste did not matter. Antony 
was never kept waiting, and that, in his opin- 
ion, was the thing to be considered." 

" Have n't I heard," said Amy, " that Na- 
poleon's meals were sometimes so prepared ? " 

" Quite right, my dear ; but not for the same 



reason. On his campaigns, Napoleon was 
often so crowded with business that he could 
not possibly be regular with his food ; and his 
attendants took care that one hot dish or an- 
other should always be at hand for him. It 
was generally a very simple dish, and Napoleon 
himself gave scarcely any thought to such 
things. He really had no time to eat." 

"And you would think," said Percy, " that 
those people, two thousand years ago, had no 
time to do anything else." 

"It almost came to that a little later," Uncle 
Claxton answered. " Eating and bathing grew 
to be the chief domestic occupations of what 
were called the higher classes. Some of them 
were much troubled to decide whether more 
hours should be given to their baths or to 
their dinners ; but the Emperor Commodus 
settled that difficulty by having his food served 
on a floating table, while he lay at full length 
in the warm water." 

" Too lazy even to sit up to his meals," re- 
marked Harry. 

" My dear boy, nobody sat up in those days. 
They preferred to stretch themselves out on 
couches when they dined, and to leave every- 
thing like exertion to the servants," was his 
uncle's reply. 

" They must have been frightfully rich," said 
Percy. 

" Some were ; and yet they did not always 
seem to think so. There was Apicius, for ex- 
ample, the greatest of all gluttons, who wrote a 
long and elaborate work on culinary science, 
which is filled with descriptions of extraor- 
dinary dishes and sauces. His sole ambition 
in life was to discover novelties in food, and to 
this pursuit he devoted all his energy and most 
of his wealth. Shrimps were at one time his 
hobby; and because the marshes of Minturnce 
produced shrimps of an enormous size, he set 
up a magnificent establishment in that seaport, 
and made himself happy with his favorite luxury 
until he heard, by chance, that still larger shell- 
fish of the same sort could be found in Africa. 
Instantly he bought a ship and set sail for the 
blissful region. He was nearly drowned on 
the voyage, but that did not worry him. His 
single thought was of the delicious monsters 
awaiting him. But when the fishermen he em- 



T42 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Dec. 



ployed could show him nothing bigger than 
he had eaten at home, he flew into a rage, and 
straightway started across the Mediterranean 
again, declaring that the whole continent of 
Africa was worthless compared with his private 
shrimp-bed at Minturnse. Well, Apicius spent 
so much of his fortune on feasting that one 
day, on looking over his accounts, he found he 
had only a few millions left. Then the strange 
idea came into his head that he was going to 
die of starvation. And what do you think he 
did ? " 

" Cut down his expenses," Harry judged. 

" Turned miser, perhaps," said Amy. 

"He committed suicide; just hanged him- 
self, out of sheer terror lest the time should 
come when he could not get enough to eat, 
though in fact he was rolling in wealth." 

" You are joking, uncle." 

" No, the story is seriously told. I believe 
one of his favorite dishes was nightingales' 
tongues, and he may have thought that his di- 
minished property could not hold out against 
such costly luxuries as that." 

'•' Nightingales' tongues ? What a shame ! " 
cried Amy. " I hope there were not many 
who lived in that way." 

" Well, you would hardly suppose the com- 
mon people could afford such dainties. They 
had all they wanted at very moderate rates. 
One of the Greek historians says that the regu- 
lar price of a meal at a Roman hotel was about 
one quarter of a cent. That was a little before 
the time of the emperors; but we know that in 
Trajan's reign, two cents a day were considered 
ample for the support and education of a boy. 
On this basis, at a rough calculation, the money 
paid for Caligula's supper might have supplied 
a dinner for one hundred and fifty millions of 
people, if so many could have been brought 
together." 

" I call it wickedness," said Amy ; " down- 
right wickedness." 

" That was the opinion of quite a number, 
even then, my dear. Lucullus was often taken 
to task for his prodigality, and several years 
later a great writer named Juvenal spoke his 
mind freely enough on the subject. He gave 
dinners, too ; but from one of his bills of fare, 
drawn up with his own hand, we can find what 



he considered ample for himself and a friend. 
His principal dish was a young kid, after which 
he offered chickens, new-laid eggs, and vegeta- 
bles ; and for dessert, grapes, pears, and apples." 

" He was no glutton," said Percy, approvingly. 

" No ; nor was Lucullus, in the lowest sense, 
though he seemed determined to make himself 
out worse than he really was. He always pre- 
tended that he gave his huge banquets for a 
purely selfish purpose. He invited a party of 
Greek travelers so often, and at such reckless 
expense, that they finally protested, and declared 
themselves unwilling to accept any more; but 
he told them they should not set it all down 
to their account, for, though a part of the display 
was for their sake, more of it was for his own." 

" Don't you think," asked Percy, " that he 
said* that in kindness, to make them feel at 
ease ? " 

" I like to think it, and am glad when other 
persons do the same; for I have a fondness for 
Lucullus, in spite of his faults, as you will have 
when you come to know all about him. There 
is no reason for classing him with the vulgar 
gormandizers of his age, like.Vitellius or Com- 
modus, or, I may say, the majority of the em- 
perors, most of whom took more pleasure Jn 
managing kitchens than in ruling kingdoms. 
Domitian, the last of the twelve Cassars, con- 
sidered problems of cookery so far above ques- 
tions of state that on one occasion he called 
the Roman senate together to consult with him 
as to how a turbot should be prepared for the 
table. He looked upon the Senator Montanus 
as a miracle of wisdom, for no better reason, 
apparently, than that this cultivated epicure 
could tell, by the first bite he gave an oyster, 
whether it came from England or from the 
Mediterranean. It is Juvenal, again, who tells 
us of the delicate taste for which Montanus was 
renowned. I think, however, that the faculty 
of distinguishing British oysters does not count 
for much. A good many Americans could do 
that quickly enough with their eyes shut ; 
though not, perhaps, if the oysters had sugar on 
them, which was one of the ways they were 
eaten in ancient Rome." 

" Were the Romans the only people of old 
times," asked Percy, " who wasted so much 
time and money on their food ? " 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



143 



"The only ones, I think," said Uncle Clax- 
ton, " who went to such outrageous excesses. 
Enormous feasts were spread at the Persian and 
other Asiatic courts, and the great Grecian con- 
queror of those regions was once or twice in his 
dazzling career more lavish than even the suc- 
cessors of Caesar. But it was not a regular 
habit with him, nor was reckless prodigality 
ever a vice of his nation. Of course there were 
exceptions, and that societies devoted to luxu- 
rious living existed in Athens we know from 
the works of Archestratus and Athenaeus, who 
wrote long poems to the glory of cookery. The 
Hellenic epicures were ingenious and often fan- 
tastic in their ideas, but were not, as a rule, 
guilty of gross extravagance. They were fond 
of such conceits as having a whole pig served, 
one side roasted and the other boiled, and stuffed 
with a great variety of delicacies, although the 
animal had never been cut or separated in any 
way. Their cooks were also skilful in preparing 
vegetables to taste like meat. A certain king 
had an intense longing for a fish called an ' aphy,' 
at a time when he was so far away from the sea 
that he did not suppose his desire could pos- 
sibly be gratified ; but his cook made him an 
artificial aphy out of a turnip, and disguised it 
so cleverly by sauces that the monarch was 
completely deceived. Occasionally we hear 
of voracious gluttons among the old Greeks. 
One of the most noted was Philoxenus, who 
wished he had a neck like a crane, so that his 
enjoyment of what he swallowed could be 
lengthened by several inches. This selfish fel- 
low used to keep his throat in training by gar- 
gling it with scalding water. Then he bribed 
the cooks, wherever he went, to send in all the 
meals furiously hot ; and thus he finished the 
best there was of each dish, before any one else 
dared to touch a morsel. A fellow -guest was 
once so offended at this that he refused to re- 
main at the table of Philoxenus, saying he had 
been invited to dine with a man, and not with 
an oven. 

" We have plenty of odd stories about 
Grecian gourmands, but they give no indica- 
tion of the monstrous profusion fashionable in 
Rome. Probably the Greeks could not have 
afforded it, if they had wished. Only Roman 
wealth could stand such ruinous waste." 



" Were any of the Romans richer than our 
millionaires ? " inquired Harry. 

" Ah, there 's a question not to be answered 
offhand. It needs a few explanations, and we 
will look into it as we eat our fruit. The dump- 
lings have gone with a lot of spendthrifts, and 
we will have some millionaires for dessert." 

Chapter IV. 

ANCIENT MILLIONAIRES. 

" If you wish," said Uncle Claxton, " to com- 
pare the millionaires of old times with those of 
to-day, you must consider, first of all, the greater 
value of money in the early centuries, and the 
enormous power it gave. The actual amounts 
possessed by opulent Romans were not nearly 
so large, dollar for dollar, as those of our mod- 
ern grandees. This could not have been said 
fifty years ago, for at that date there were not 
many persons who possessed anything to com- 
pare with the treasures amassed by a kw of 
Caesar's contemporaries. But the increase of 
wealth has been prodigious since the time of our 
Civil War, especially in America. When I was 
a boy, any one who had one hundred thou- 
sand dollars to his name was considered fairly 
rich ; but at present people think little of a 
trifle like that. Even in Europe, where for- 
tunes are gained much less rapidly than with 
us, a property must now be many times larger 
than in the first half of this century, before it 
begins to dazzle society. I suppose some of 
you have read ' Monte Cristo ' ; and you know 
that few things were too extravagant for the 
imagination of Alexander Dumas. He meant 
that his romantic hero should lead the whole 
world in magnificence, and probably thought 
he was giving him the biggest bank-account 
ever heard of. But Monte Cristo was worth 
only a fraction of what several real men now 
living can show. This was not the sort of mis- 
take you would have expected from Dumas. 
It would have cost him only a stroke of the 
pen to multiply the hoard in the Mediterranean 
island a hundred times ; but although the novel 
was written when he was over forty years old, 
he could not foresee that his fiction would be 
utterly distanced by solid facts before he died. 
Monte Cristo was no better off, indeed, than 



144 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Dec. 



certain Romans of Caesar's period. The wealthi- 
est of these Vas believed to be Crassus, who 
may have had forty million dollars. That is 
the highest estimate I have seen. The lowest 
allows him about eight millions; but he could 
not have carried out his vast schemes on so 
small a financial basis as that. Forty million 
seems to me a reasonable calculation, and he 
could do more with his forty than any one 
could do now with two hundred." 

" I suppose," Harry remarked, " that as a 
dinner-giver he stood higher than Lucullus or 
any of the class." 

" There you are wrong. Once or twice he 
shone out brilliantly; but as a rule he did not 
care much for that kind of amusement. In 
fact, he cared for very little besides filling his 
pockets. That was his business and his plea- 
sure at the same time. He found out the most 
astonishing ways of enriching himself, and never 
cared how cruelly he made others suffer in the 
process. He bought ignorant slaves, and edu- 
cated them to a high point, not for their own 
good or happiness, but in order to get more 
profit from them.- Human misery was the 
source of more than half his wealth. Nobody 
but he could have invented his extraordinary 
scheme for making money out of burning 
houses." 

" Did he cheat the insurance companies ? " 
Percy asked. 

" Not that. Insurance was then unknown, 
and his plan was more original, and less dan- 
gerous to himself. He trained one set of slaves 
to be expert firemen, and other sets to be ma- 
sons and carpenters ; and whenever a great con- 
flagration took place, he was always on hand, 
ready to buy buildings as soon as they caught 
fire. He offered only a mere fraction of what 
they were worth ; but the owners were glad, in 
their anxiety and fear, to take what they could 
get; and the moment the bargain was struck 
his firemen would rush in and do their work. 
If they could not save a house, the carpenters 
and architects would reconstruct it as rapidly 
and cheaply as possible, all to the gain of Cras- 
sus, who after a while got possession of the 
greater part of the city — so people said. It 
was even suspected that he had a hand in kin- 
dling the flames by which he prospered." 



" He was a wicked miser ! " exclaimed Amy. 

" That was what most people thought, though 
some declared that he could be generous, or at 
least bountiful, if he chose. He did not often 
entertain guests magnificently, but occasionally 
he gave banquets on a colossal scale. While 
he held the consulship jointly with Pompey, he 
once invited the whole populace of Rome, pro- 
viding ten thousand tables for them ; and in ad- 
dition made a present to each citizen of enough 
corn to last three months. That, we may believe, 
was for public effect, like the still more sump- 
tuous dinner given, years later, by Julius Caesar, 
after his victorious campaign in Asia, when 
twenty-two thousand tables were laid for the 
satisfaction of the citizens. But Crassus was 
sometimes known to lend money privately to 
his friends without charging interest ; and this 
was then a most uncommon manifestation of 
liberality. 

" Crassus once helped Caesar out of serious 
difficulties at a critical period. No man ever 
spent money more profusely than Csesar when 
he was laying the foundation of his popularity. 
He believed that the immense sums he lavished 
upon feasts for the multitude were his best in- 
vestments, although he crippled himself to such 
an extent that, when he was appointed governor 
of Portugal and western Spain, he could not 
have started for his province if Crassus had not 
supplied funds to pay his debts. The amount 
of the loan was nearly a million dollars, at the 
lowest estimate, and some calculations fix it at 
not less than five millions. All of this money 
had long before gone down the throats of the 
citizens, in the shape of food and drink. But 
Crassus did not give his aid out of good fellow- 
ship on this occasion. He wanted Caesar's 
political influence, and was willing to pay a 
large price for it. That was his idea of a good 
investment. There is no question that avarice 
was the great passion of Crassus, and it was this 
that destroyed him in the end." 

" So it ought," said Amy. " He deserved 
to be punished." 

" He was punished badly enough," rejoined 
Uncle Claxton. " He died disgracefully, in 
the midst of a tremendous effort to double his 
wealth. When he was sixty years old, he became 
one of the three masters of the Roman empire, 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



145 




THE LYDIAN KING, CRCESUS, A PRISONER BEFORE CYRUS, KING OF PERSIA. 



and received as his share of territory the Asiatic 
provinces, from the inhabitants of which he 
believed he could extort fabulous sums. With- 
out the slightest provocation, he led an army 
against them, but blundered so terribly as a 
general that he was shamefully beaten, and after- 
ward ignominously slain by the enemy he had 
despised. No one lamented his death , no one 
Vol. XXVI.— 19. 



honored his memory. Though his character 
was not wholly worthless, his good qualities 
were completely overshadowed by the consum- 
ing vice of avarice, which made him infamous 
for all time." 

" Let me ask you, uncle," said Amy, after 
a moment's silence, " if there is more than one 
way of pronouncing this rich man's name ? " 



146 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Dec. 



" Not that I know of, my dear. Of course 
he had more than one name, if that is what you 
mean," her uncle answered. 

" No," Amy went on ; " but when you told 
us about his great wealth. I thought I remem- 
bered the name of another very rich man, that 
sounded almost the same." 

" I see," said Uncle Claxton ; " you are think- 
ing of Croesus. To be sure; 'rich as Croesus' 
is a common phrase. He was quite a differ- 
ent person, however, — a king of the coun- 
try called Lydia, in Asia, and he died more 
than four hundred years before Crassus was 
born. Yes, he was said to be the richest of 
mankind, when at the height of his power. It 
would not have occurred to me, however, to 
speak of him, or of any kings, as belonging to 
the class of millionaires. Undoubtedly they 
had control of many more millions than any of 
their subjects possessed, especially the Eastern 
monarchs. But the treasures which they in- 
herited, or extorted from their people, or cap- 
tured from rival potentates, seem to us matters 
of course; and it does not make our heads 
swim to hear that Roman emperors squandered 
fortunes in a day, or that Artaxerxes went 
to war wearing robes and jewels worth twelve 
million dollars, or that one of Alexander's 
feasts cost him ten millions." 

" Indeed, Uncle Claxton," exclaimed Percy, 
" it makes my head swim. Ten millions for 
one feast ! That outdoes anything you have 
told us yet." 

" It was n't all for food and wine, that time," 
Uncle Claxton explained. "Alexander had taken 
a princess of Persia for his wife, and married 
many of his officers to Persian ladies; and 
he wished to celebrate the occasion with un- 
common magnificence. Nine thousand guests 
were present, and to each of these he gave a 
cup of solid gold, besides paying all the debts 
of those he particularly favored. A great part 
of the money was spent to gratify his lavish 
fancies. 

" Alexander could easily afford it. The ban- 
quet was held at Susa, the Persian capital, 
which he had conquered not long before, and 
in the palace of which he found forty million 
dollars in coin alone, with gold and precious 
stones of still greater value. And Susa was 



only one among the hundreds of conquered 
cities that thus paid tribute to him." 

" Is it possible," asked Amy, " that Croesus 
was richer than Alexander ? " 

"Alexander scattered his wealth as fast as he 
won it," replied Uncle Claxton, " while Croesus 
took better care of his. He was liberal enough, 
however, and was known as a great patron of 
learning, and of art, too. Your friend — every- 
body's friend — y£sop, the maker of fables, was 
one of the ornaments of his court. But Croesus 
went to war with the king of Persia, and lost 
everything but his life. He came near losing 
that, as well, and nothing but his humility in 
misfortune saved him. There was more good 
in his nature than in the whole tribe of Crassus, 
I suspect." 

" Will you tell us how it was, uncle ? " Amy 
asked. 

" I will tell you the story that has come 
down to us through the centuries. In the full- 
ness of his glory Croesus was visited by Solon, 
the wise man of Greece, who was taking a 
long vacation after his public labors in Athens. 
Croesus hoped to astonish Solon by his magni- 
ficence, and to make him acknowledge that no 
one on earth could be happier than the mighty 
Lydian king. But Solon would not agree to 
this, and insisted that every man must wait till 
the end of his life, and see what fortune would 
finally bring him, before deciding whether he 
could be called happy or not. The king was 
greatly offended, and from that time he never 
spoke of the stern philosopher until his own 
death seemed close at hand. After his defeat 
and capture by Cyrus the Persian, he was con- 
demned to be burned alive, in the presence of 
the conqueror. Just as the sentence was about 
to be executed, Croesus called out the name of 
Solon three times ; and Cyrus, wondering what 
he meant, had him brought forward to explain 
the exclamation. Croesus then described his 
interview with the sage, the wisdom of whose 
judgment was now proved by his own miser- 
able end. Cyrus was deeply impressed by 
what he heard, and by the resignation of his 
captive. He released Croesus, and from that 
time protected and befriended him. The de- 
posed sovereign of Lydia was a prominent 
figure at the Persian court not only as long as 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



147 



Cyrus lived, but during some years of the reign 
of Cambyses, the successor of Cyrus." 

" Perhaps," Amy suggested, " he was happier 
then than when he was the richest of kings." 

" It is hard to say, my dear. Few men are 
contented to give up what they have once pos- 
sessed. But riches and happiness do not al- 
ways go together, by any means. Most of the 
millionaires of old times valued their wealth 
merely because they thought it would help 



saying that for once he should have plenty of 
what he was always longing for." 

" One mouthful was more than plenty, I 
am sure," observed Harry. 

" Enough is as good as a feast," chirped little 
Dick, who thought he ought to be heard occa- 
sionally, even if he did not entirely catch the 
meaning of what he listened to, and could not 
understand why his remarks always set his 
companions to laughing. 




UNCLE CLAXTON S SALT-FISH DINNER. 



them to gratify their strongest desires. Sylla, 
Pompey, Caesar, and many of their kind, relied 
upon it to increase their power. Lucullus used 
it to indulge his luxurious tastes. That poor 
wretch Apicius made it serve his passion for 
gluttony. For the money itself they did not 
care. Only misers do that. Their delight is 
to see their hoards grow larger and larger, with 
no object but that of swelling their fortunes to 
the utmost possible dimensions. So it was with 
Crassus. Beginning with nothing, he took 
everything he could grasp, and never stopped 
until death stopped him. A singularly effective 
story was told by some of his companions in 
Asia, about the way in which he was killed. It 
was contradicted by others, but was apparently 
credited at the time. If it was true, his last 
meal was of the kind that Harry spoke of, a 
while ago ; for his conqueror, in mockery of his 
greedy life, poured melted gold into his mouth, 



" You are the wisest of us all, Dick," ap- 
plauded his uncle. " We have had all we want, 
and there is no use in sitting here any longer. 
The best salt-fish dinner cannot last forever." 

" No," replied Master Dick, in rather an un- 
decided tone, " but I wish there were two Fri- 
days in a week." 

" I am glad you all liked it," said hospitable 
Uncle Claxton, as the children warmly approved 
their young brother's remark; "but we are at 
the end for this time. Since you are all of one 
mind, however, about the dinner, why should 
you not come out again next week, and repeat 
it ? You may come as early as you like, and 
if I am not here, you can wait for me in the 
museum. I am expecting some new curiosities, 
and you may see if you can find out what they 
are. Now, get ready for home, and bear in 
mind that you are to report yourselves next 
Friday, each with a good appetite." 



{To be continued ) 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW." 



By Clara Morris. 



The strange power which ordains that each 
member of a colored family should be of a dif- 
ferent shade from every other member must 
have been in full force when little " Jim Crow's " 
case was under consideration, for he was black 
— uncompromisingly black. 

He had a buff sister, a brown mother, and a 
red-brown brother; but, for all that, his own 
smooth, fine-grained skin was decidedly black. 




"'RATS — DID N'T — EAT— OUR — CHICKEN-PIE ! ' " (SEE PAGE 150.) 

Jim Crow, by the way, was not Jim Crow, 
save by the grace of a woman's whim — mine, 
to be exact. He was William Jones, or had 



been until my eye fell upon him, when I in- 
stantly hailed him as my little " Jim Crow," a 
name which his mother, our cook, soon adopted; 
the neighborhood followed suit, and he himself 
seemed to regard it as an honorary title to be 
proud of. 

He was as pretty as a little Cupid. He had 
all the malicious mischievousness of a monkey 
old in sin, allied to the boundless love of life of 
a young puppy. He could sing, 
he could dance, he could climb, 
turn somersaults, stand on his 
woolly head, and did a surprising 
amount of his walking upon his 
hands with heels in air. 

The house we lived in belonged 
to an uncle who had formerly 
been the mayor of New York, 
this fact being proved by the 
presence of two extra lamps be- 
fore the front door, gas being the 
medium through which that city 
honors its chief officer. These 
very large lamps in their tall stan- 
dards, and the broad stone steps 
they flanked, were immediately 
turned by my little Jim Crow into 
a sort of private gymnasium. 

My husband, like every one 
else, was fond of this tiny black 
man, but he never gave his entire 
approval to this gymnasium busi- 
ness. He did not mind, for him- 
self; his conscience was clear and 
his nerves steady ; but some of our 
friends had nerves that were not 
always under perfect control. 
These people were apt to feel a 
sort of knee-loosening shock at 
being suddenly addressed by 
a person hanging upside down somewhere 
over their heads. 

With his toes inside the lamp, his head hang- 



h:t' 



MY LITTLE " JIM CROW." 



149 






ing down, and his arms all abroad, Jim what ferocity ! To be able to demolish such a 

Crow looked like some strange foreign fruit structure, and in one night ! 

which had failed to ripen. Two days later my mother had occasion to 

One poor lady was brought to the point of press out some lace forme, and Jim Crow at once 
smelling-salts, wine, and much fanning, through placed himself by the ironing-board. He stood 
seeing, as she declared, " a very small person upon one bare foot, and tenderly stroked his shin 
coming* down your steps, my dear, who had no with the pale sole of the other foot, now and 
head!" — Jim Crow in the dusk 
having been practising walking 
on his hands. 

All the marked characteristics 
of his strange race could be 
learned from this small black 
volume. Here was the love of 
music, dance, and color, the 
boastfulness, the intense devo- 
tion to special members of the 
white race, the easy, graceful 
romancing, the warm-hearted 
generosity, with the occasional 
gleams of treachery, all crop- 
ping out in this tiny black man 
of five years. 

Both his mother and sister 
were in our employ, and be- 
tween them Jim Crow received 
"more kicks than ha'pence," 
and more cuffs than kisses. 

Injustice sometimes stirred 
him to revenge, and then — I 
think I have said he was gener- 
ous, but never, never did he 
show such cheerfully boundless 
generosity as when he was 
" giving away " his mother and 
his sister. The methods of his 
betrayals were amusing in the 
extreme, since he invariably set 
them to music. Usually he sang his accusa- 
tions to the tune of an old Methodist hymn. 

On one occasion, a large imposing chicken- 
pie had been built and furnished forth on 
Monday, and on Tuesday my lord and mas- 
ter desired its presence, that he might make 
an assault upon it. 

But there was no chicken-pie ! 

" Why ? What ? What had become of it ? " 
was the next inquiry. 

" The rats ate it, sir ! " 

We shuddered. What awful rats ! What size, 




MISS CLA H, DAT LITTLE CAT U D JIST BOUT SUIT ME. 

then pausing a moment to scratch the calf of 
his leg with a slow and thoughtful toe ; and while 
doing this he sang in his sweet child's voice 
these words, to the tune of " Old Hundred " : 

" Rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats ! 
Little rats, big rats, bigger rats ! 
Some more-ore rats ! " 

The continued repetition of that one word 
attracted her attention, as it was intended to do, 
and the moment her eyes met his maliciously 
sparkling ones, there flashed into her mind 



15° 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW. 



[Dec. 



the memory of certain cries and lamentations 
which had issued from the basement that very- 
morning, and she understood that this was to 
be revenge; in fact, Jim Crow was chanting 



his war-song : 

" — rats, rats, rats ! 
Sometimes rats eat things; 
Sometimes they don't! " 

A quick, angry voice from the next room 
suddenly cried : 

" You Jim Crow, come in yere ! " 
But Jim Crow sang sweetly though some- 
what hurriedly on : 

" Rats eats some chicken-pies, not ours." 

Voice: "Jim Crow, are yer coming?" 
" Rats did n't eat our chicken-pie ! " 

A large brown hand was thrust through the 
doorway ; it grasped Jim Crow by the back of 
his wee shirt and dragged him out of the 
room backwards; but even as he made that un- 
willing and ignominious exit, he shouted loud 
and clear his last line : 

" Naygars eat dat pie ! Naygars eat it all ! " 

Shortly after the pie episode I found Jim 
Crow holding in his arms some small object 
upon which he lavished the tenderest terms of 
endearment. As soon as he saw me he gave 
the three standing jumps and the whoop which 
were his usual morning greeting, then ex- 
claimed : 

" Now, den, honey, stan' on yo' foots, an' 
show yer'sel' to Miss Cla'h ! " 

" Honey " obeyed. It seemed like a sneer 
at misery to call the creature a kitten. As it 
wavered toward me on its weak little legs, and 
piteously raised its one green and only eye to 
my face, I felt the tears coming. In the scheme 
of its structure fur had not been considered an 
important item, and flesh had not been con- 
sidered at all ; but the amount of tail used in 
the make-up of that one small slip of a cat was 
something wonderful. I took up the little scrap 
of metropolitan misery, and a vibration in its 
skinny throat told me it was trying to purr, but 
was literally too weak to make a sound ; though 
when I obtained some warm milk for it, its 



savage hunger forced it to clamber into the 
dish, where it stood ankle-deep in the strength- 
giving fluid. 

While pussy was engaged in the milk-storage 
business, Jim Crow conversed pleasantly on the 
peculiarities of cats in their relations to the dif- 
ferent races of men, white or black. With a 
wise wag of his head, he remarked : 

" Miss Cla'h, dat ain't no white man's cat." 

" Why ? " I asked. 

He gave me a surprised look, and answered : 
" Hain't got eyes enuf. White man's cat al- 
ways has two eyes." 

" Well," I said, " it 's a dreadfully ugly little 
thing. I am sure no one wants it." 

Then was Jim Crow angry. With his brows 
knit and his under lip thrust out, he had for 
a moment an expression as black as his skin. 
But it lasted only a moment ; then the roguish 
look was back, and with his usual white-toothed 
smile he exclaimed : " Miss Cla'h, don' you 
know dat cat 's a niggah man's cat ? Wh-wh- 
why, dat 's a lucky cat ; an', Miss Cla'h — " 
He stopped to put his finger in his mouth, hung 
his head, and worked one foot round and round 
a figure in the carpet; then, with a world of 
persuasion in his voice, of entreaty in his dark 
eyes, he laid a little pleading hand on my knee, 
and almost whispered, " Miss Cla'h, dat little 
cat wiv one eye 'u'd jist 'bout suit me to 
deff." 

That ended it. Jim Crow had his way, and 
his cat. A few days later there was to be seen, 
walking slowly around the grass-plot, a very 
small cat which had the appearance of having 
swallowed whole a large, hard, and very round 
apple, so distended were her sides, so thin her 
frame. 

I wish I could say I never, never had cause 
to regret my kind act, but as a strictly truthful 
woman I cannot say it. You see, this was an ash- 
barrel cat, — one should always remember that, 
— and she ("Misery" was her name, though 
Jim Crow always called her " Mis'sy ") matured 
early. Almost before we knew it, Misery had 
the reputation of being able to spit farther at 
one hiss, tear longer splinters out of the fences, 
sing more ear-piercing songs, and give a 
more soul-harrowing high C than any cat on 
the block, bar none. But there ! let 's have 



•] 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW. 



151 



done with Misery (would we could!); it 's of 
Jim Crow I would speak. 

When he became a member of our household 
he had a limited wardrobe and absolutely no 
manners, so I proceeded to add something to 
his outfit in both directions. He was bright, 
quick, and had a good memory, and if he 
could only be kept still long enough to absorb 
your meaning he was nearly sure to remember 
your lesson. 

But he gave me some trying moments, I must 




confess. For instance, while I would be trying 
to explain to him those laws of politeness which 
rule the actions of little gentlemen, Jim Crow, 
with his eyes fixed solemnly on my face, would 
lean his elbows on my knees, and kick himself 
in the rear with a vigor and rapidity truly sur- 
prising. On one of these occasions I told Jim 
Crow that he need not do that, as doubtless 
through his whole life other people would do 
the kicking for him. This greatly amused him ; 
he laughed immoderately, and when he went 
downstairs he told his mother that " Miss Cla'h 



said that he was to do nuffen, and other pussons 
would kick holes clean frou his life ! " 

And thereupon that irascible bondwoman 
delivered her sentiments to the effect that : 
"Lawsakes! She wished dey 'u'd begin right 
away ! That she 'd like to kick him full o' 
holes herseP, bec'ase o' that ornery, no-account, 
one-eyed cat o' hisn," etc. 

It was not long before Jim Crow compre- 
hended that certain benefits followed in the 
train of good manners. First of all, there was 
the keen delight of bowing deeply and 
gracefully to his own reflection in the 
basement windows. Then there was the 
charm of hearing his own voice declaim- 
ing loudly all his manners in one breath, 
if his lungs permitted it, thus: "Yes, sir; 
no, sir; yes 'um; no, mum; if you please; 
thank yer; howdy do? good-by; can I 
'sist you ? is there anythin' I can do ? " 
Then there were the admiring exclama- 
tions, not unaccompanied by nickels, of 
ladies who were charmed by his deep bow 
and the graceful sweep of his little arm as 
he removed the crown of his hat before 
them. There were no brims to Jim 
Crow's hats, and I feel sure that had there 
been brims, then there would have been 
no crowns. 

I also led Jim Crow a short, a very 
short, distance along the paths of educa- 
tion. He could count up to six with tem- 
perate calmness, but beyond that point 
his figuring was directed by an absolutely 
tropical imagination ; while his joyous 
greeting of A, B, C, and D was in marked 
contrast to his doubtful acknowledgment 
of E and his absolute non-recognition of F. 
Only a modicum of his time was spent in 
pursuit of education and manners; the other 
part he gave to a search for some new way of 
almost breaking his neck. 

What was left of his day had many claims 
upon it. Misery had to be fed often and to be 
talked to. Everything I tried to teach Jim 
Crow upstairs he tried to teach his cat down- 
stairs. Then he had to romance a good deal 
about Misery to the neighboring servants that 
they might be brought to appreciate all her 
remarkable qualities as a lucky cat. 



152 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW." 



[Dec. 



Besides all this, he had to exercise that faculty 
which he had inherited from uncountable an- 
cestors — the faculty of sleep. If his grown-up 
sister slept with all the stops open, leaning 
against any largish piece of furniture that came 







■ §?§^ 



" AIN T YOU GOT NO BUTTONS IN ALL DIS BIG STOR 

handy, and his mother — I have seen her stand- 
ing before a chopping-bowl, taking a refreshing 
nap, with her hand still holding the raised knife. 
When she awoke the knife descended ; opera- 
tions were resumed. There was no yawning, 
no rubbing of eyes ; she had been asleep, she 
was now awake, that 's all, and — " What of it ? " 



Oh, nothing, Maria, nothing ! I am only say- 
ing, now, that if the grown-up women required 
this refreshment, how much greater was the 
need of Jim Crow, who was burdened with 
the additional duty of having to grow a little 
bit each day, unless he 
wished to become a 
freak. 

Therefore it was not 
surprising to find him 
in the somewhat ridgy 
embrace of the willow 
clothes-basket, or ly- 
ing across the nagged 
walk, with his head 
pillowed on the grass- 
plot, or sitting upon 
an overturned horse- 
bucket, with his head 
against the stable 
door, and his face 
lifted up full to God's 
great search-light, the 
sun, whose fierce rays 
brought out no stain 
of sin, no vestige of 
vice, upon the black 
little countenance, in- 
nocent, as yet, as any 
white baby's in the 
land. 

In the winter Jim 
Crow's favorite place 
of retirement from 
carking cares was 
under the kitchen 
table, well back against 
the wall, where his 
fingers and toes were 
safe from the far- 
reaching "tromp" of 
the African feet about 
him. 

With his head painfully close to the nearly 
red-hot range, his feet in the direct and icy 
draft of an outer door, he would sleep happy 
and comfortable. Indeed, he found himself so 
comfortable that he often remained there some 
time after he had awakened, on which occasions 
he was very apt to interject certain remarks 



(see page 156.) 



i8 9 8.] 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW. 



153 



into such conversation as was going on; and, 
odd as it may seem, these remarks were rarely 
received with approbation by his hearers. For 
instance, a visitor said, one day, to his mother : 

" Sis' Jones, w'atever yo' gwine to do wiv 
dat yere boy o' yourn ? " 

To which Maria, utterly oblivious of Jim 
Crow's presence, excitedly replied: 

" Yo' ast me dat, Sis' Jackson ? Yo' bettah 
ast me w'at he 's gwine to do wiv me. He 's 
dat obstrep'rous I 'se clean frustrated wiv him. 
I 'se made him a subjeck of prayer, I has; 
yaas, 'm ; I 's been down on my old knees, and 
prayed and prayed — " 

Then came an emphatic young voice from 
under the table, saying : 

" Why, Mee-ri er, yo' hain't prayed on yo' 
knees since befo' I was born ! " 

However, much as these happenings might 
amuse us upstairs, they certainly did not en- 
dear him to his own people downstairs, and 
time and again I had to fling the shield of my 
authority above little Jim Crow's head to save 
him from the vengeful wrath of his buff and 
sullen sister. His mother was not to be feared. 
True, she "barked" loudly and often; but her 
"bite" was rare and exceeding mild, for you 
see she was his mother, even though he had 
never called her so. To him she was Maria, 
only he had the queerest way of saying it. He 
pronounced the name in three distinct syl- 
lables, drawling each one out, and making an 
absolute pause between the second and third, 
something like this : " Mee-ri er." 

Poor old brown-black mother! who "never 
had no time down in Richmon', honey, to teach 
chilluns to say ' muver,' but was called by 'em 
jus' plain' Maria.' " 

Of all Jim Crow's long, long busy day, the 
dearest, sweetest moments were those he spent 
with the white children of the neighborhood. 
They were all the children of the rich or well- 
to-do, and the love and admiration for them 
that filled his honest little heart was something 
to wonder at. He would watch so longingly 
for them to come from school, and as they ap- 
peared he would hug himself and stamp and 
shout with joy. Then he would rush out and 
turn a somersault before them, after which he 
would draw back to the sidewalk's edge, put 
Vol. XXVI.— 20. 



his finger to his mouth, and smile deprecatingly 
at them. If they laughed, that was enough ; he 
leaped, danced, sang, and wore himself com- 
pletely out for their amusement. 

Sometimes the boys would play a bit with 
him, when the child's joy was simply boundless. 
If one of them chanced to get dust or mud 
on his garment, Jim Crow would fly to the 
rescue, and with his quick and willing little 
hands rub away every vestige of soil, and 
then hug himself and laugh. 

It was in December that I noticed a growing 
dullness or sadness on Jim Crow's part, and at 
about the same time I observed the absence of 
the usual noisy afternoon group of youngsters 
in front of the house. A few days after this, 
on returning from my drive, I was shocked to 
see crouched upon my doorstep, shivering like 
a little homeless cur, my Jim Crow, his woolly 
head bent down upon his knees, and all his little 
body shaken and strained by convulsive sobs. 
I lifted him, and led him, blindly stumbling as 
he walked, into the extension at the back of the 
dining-room, that we might be quite alone, and, 
taking off my cloak and hat, I began to ques- 
tion him. 

Was he sick ? A shake of his heavily droop- 
ing head was his only answer. Had his sister 
hurt him ? Had his mother punished him ? 
Still that vehement shake of the head, and still 
those dreadful sobs. At last I cried : " It 's 
Misery ! Jim Crow, have you lost Misery ? " 

This time for answer he impatiently raised 
one hand and pointed through the window. I 
turned my head and looked, and there stood 
Misery on the fence, and her arched back and 
distended tail told me quite plainly she was 
well and about to try some new music. 

What was I to do ? The little fellow had fal- 
len forward on my knee, and his grief was piti- 
ful. For one moment Northern shrinking from 
the unaccustomed contact held me back, and 
then the woman's pity for a grieving child con- 
quered. He was but a baby, and I took him 
in my arms and let him hide his tear-stained, 
sodden little face upon my breast ; and when 
I coaxed him once again to tell me what was 
the matter, he raised his poor drowned eyes 
one moment to my face, and gasped : 

" Oh, Miss Cla'h, dey, my little white cuzzens, 



154 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW. 



[Dec. 



won't speak to me any more ! " then hid his 
face again in shame and sorrow. Oh, poor 
black baby ! I had a hysterical desire to laugh 
at the queer degree of relationship he had 
claimed with the white children; yet, in spite 
of that desire, I saw two great tears shining 
on the woolly head upon my breast, and knew 
I must have shed them. 

Oh, Jim Crow! Poor little man! The gall 
and wormwood that are ever mixed in black 
blood had risen that day for the first time to 
his child's lips, and he had tasted the bitterness 
thereof ! The cruel lash of race had fallen for 
the first time across his baby shoulders, and the 
pain was the deeper because children's hands 
had given the blow ! 

Hitherto it had been an easy matter to dis- 
pel Jim Crow's troubles. A kind word or 
two, a penny, a promise of a ride around to the 
stable on the coachman's box — all these had 
proved successful in the past; while for a 
whipping, a real, old-fashioned warming, I had 
found nothing so soothing, so strengthening and 
sustaining, as a large piece of butter-scotch. 

But now, alas ! all these offers were rejected. 
I talked long and earnestly to him, telling him 
the white children cared for him as much as 
ever, only it was almost time for Santa Claus to 
come, and they could think of nothing else just 
now. " By and by they '11 — " But no; it would 
not do. One well-dressed little savage had 
struck Jim Crow aside with rough words, and 
called him a name which, when applied in an- 
ger or contempt, will cut to the very heart of 
any black man or woman in the world, and 
rankle there worse than any word of contempt 
or abuse in the English language — the name 
" Nigger." 

I sat for a little, helpless ; then I had a veri- 
table inspiration. 

" Jim Crow," I cried, " listen ! No, no ; it 's 
not about the children ; it 's something else. 
I want to ask you something. Jim Crow, how 
big must a boy be to have a pair of long, red- 
topped boots ? " 

Like a flash came his answer : 

" As big as me ! " 

At last victory perched on my banner. I had 
won his attention. At that very moment Mis- 
ery began the first wailing notes of a duet with 



a friend in dark gray, who sat in the coal-box 
next door, and Jim Crow, rubbing his tearful 
eyes with his knuckles, proudly sighed : 

" Mis'sy can yowl the loudest; can't she, Miss 
Cla'h ? " 

Needless to say, I agreed with him. I should 
have done so anyway ; but really and truly Mis- 
ery could out-yowl not only her young friend 
in gray and the old gentleman in rusty black, 
— who seemed to have charge of the church 
across the street, since he came from its base- 
ment every week-day in a dusty condition, and 
washed himself habitually on its lower steps, — 
but she could and did quite sing down the only 
basso in the block, a red-haired party, through 
whose sensitive whiskers many a wintry blast 
had blown, whose torn and jagged ears and 
fiercely rounded yellow eyes betrayed more of 
his real nature than he could have wished. 

So you see her master really had some 
grounds for his pride in Misery. Sometimes 
I thought he might be right in calling her a 
lucky cat. She had, you know, but one eye, 
and yet her power of watchfulness seemed 
double that of other ladies of her race. Her 
ability to dodge rapidly moving objects was 
remarkable, particularly when bodies were torn 
from their natural orbits, so to speak, and came 
hurtling through the air. On one occasion, 
very late at night, she was entertaining a friend 
on the veranda steps; perhaps she was a trifle 
noisy about it. At any rate, a third -story 
neighbor hurled a great common soap-dish at 
Misery's head; and she, feeling that her friend 
could see this danger with two eyes as well as 
she could see it with one eye, said nothing, but 
calmly leaped aside, and let the dish go whack 
into the visitor's ribs ! Many things were 
broken that night : a commandment, the soap- 
dish, a friendship, and three ribs. 

I had encouraged Jim Crow to speak as 
much as he would of Misery's virtues and tal- 
ents. She had fewer of the first than the last, I 
fear. The conversation was beginning to lag 
when that occurred which put an end to it. 
The duet was interrupted by the swift passing 
of about three fourths of a large arctic over- 
shoe. Even here Misery showed her superior 
nerve; for while her friend in the gray suit 
sprang wildly into an abandoned wash-boiler 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW. 



155 



for protection, Misery, with truly French aplomb, 
held her position on the fence-top, spitting at 
all hands with an energy that bordered on 
ferocity. 

I saw Jim Crow's mind was returning to his 
trouble, so I hastily brought the boot question 
forward again. Once more I caught his atten- 
tion, and we proceeded to discuss most thor- 
oughly the question of dress. 

I am afraid I did not understand him as well 
as usual, for his excited and minute description 
of what he most admired in clothing left the 
impression on my mind that he desired greatly 
a suit composed entirely of buttons. 

Our interview finally ended in a double-bar- 
reled promise. One barrel was Jim Crow's 
vow not to make any advance whatever to the 
white children, but to answer nicely should they 
speak to him first. In return, I promised to 
buy on the very next day a suit of clothes for 
Jim Crow, allowing him to select his own store 
and his own suit. This being settled, the little 
fellow slipped from my lap, made me his pro- 
found bow, and left the room. In a moment 
I heard him whizz down the banisters on the 
way to the kitchen. 

Next forenoon I sallied forth, one hand hold- 
ing a pocket-book, the other leading a little 
black imp, whose gleaming teeth, flashing eyes, 
and roguish face caused every one to smile 
who looked at him ; and many turned to 
look again. 

Once he released my hand, and for a mo- 
ment disappeared behind me; but almost directly 
he was back, holding my fingers tightly, and 
dancing along the pavement at my side. It 
was very shortly after this that I noticed a de- 
cided broadening in the smiles we met, and 
then, yes, the smiles became laughter behind us. 
What was it ? I glanced at my reflection in 
the windows. My attire seemed all right; no- 
thing coming off, nothing sticking to me. No; 
it was Jim Crow they were laughing at ; but 
why ? 

Suddenly I asked him to run ahead a few 
steps, and then I saw — I saw a great tear in 
the seat of his tiny trousers, and through this 
tear there jubilantly waved upon the chilly air 
a — snow-white flag of truce. 

With burning cheeks I shunted Jim Crow 



into a side street, exclaiming, " Oh, Jim Crow ! 
why did n't your sister mend your trousers 
before you came out ? " 

" She did mend 'em wiv a pin, but de pin 
stick-ed me so, I pulled it out a ways back ! " 
answered my small friend. Then, seeing me 
still vexed, he added affably : 

" It don' hurt now, Miss Cla'h, and de wind 
ain't col' a bit." 

Having sought and found the privacy of 
some one's hallway, I knelt down and mended 
the smallest pair of trousers I ever saw with 
the very biggest safety-pin I ever happened to 
own. Never mind ; the flag of truce was with- 
drawn from the gaze of a startled people, and 
Jim Crow's little carcass was not " stick-ed." 

So once more we put on a brave front and 
faced the avenue. I was not very strong in 
those days, and could not walk far, so I had 
three several times attempted to enter clothing 
stores we were passing — big, well-stocked 
places, too; but, " No, no, no! " Jim Crow cried, 
dragging me violently away; he wanted to go 
to the " big glass stor'." 

" But," said I, " they do not sell clothes at a 
glass-store." 

" Yes, Miss Cla'h, they does ; more clo's than 
eber you saw dey sells. Oh, please, please ! 
It ain't far now, shur'ly, shur'ly, not far now, 
Miss Cla'h ! " 

So wearily I walked on, till at Twenty-third 
Street, when I was ready to faint from fatigue, 
he suddenly let go my hand that he might hug 
himself, and then, pointing across the street to 
the Grand Opera House, he shouted : 

" Dar she is, Miss Cla'h ; dar 's de big glass 
stor'. I guess I git buttons dar ! " 

Sure enough, the ground floor of the great 
building was then occupied by a clothing firm, 
and the marble, the gilding, and the enormous 
show-windows had won from Jim Crow en- 
thusiastic admiration and the title of the " glass 
store." 

When we went in there were several ladies 
at different counters examining children's 
garments, but they soon left their own shop- 
ping to assist at Jim Crow's. For he it was 
gave the orders, and his lordly and pomp- 
ous manner, taken in conjunction with his 
infinitesimal size, was really very funny. 



156 



MY LITTLE " JIM CROW. 



[Dec. 



One salesman had waited upon him at first, 
but presently two were busy trying to meet his 
demands without strangling with laughter. I 
had fallen into the first seat that presented it- 
self, and having told the clerk that I would be 
responsible for anything the child selected, I 
had, as it were, turned Jim Crow loose in the 
great store ; and he was running things to suit 
himself, while I tried to get a little rest, and 
offered up a humble prayer that the safety-pin 
might not belie its name. 

But somehow things did not go right. Those 
two salesmen brought forth clothing enough 
for a small regiment of boys, but nothing suited 
Jim Crow. His contemptuous remarks con- 
vulsed his hearers, but he paid no heed to by- 
standers. At last there seemed cause for hope. 
A little blue suit with a great quantity of white 
braid and stitching seemed for a moment to 
please him ; but when it was opened out he sud- 
denly swept it aside with his arm, and casting 
dignity to the winds, he ran to me and buried 
his disappointed little face in my dress. 

"What is it, Jim Crow?" I asked. "Can't 
you find what you want ? " 

He shook his head, and then, turning his 
flashing, tearful eyes upon the salesman, he 
exclaimed : 

" Ain't you got no buttons in all dis big 
stor' ? " 

Then a third salesman came up, and mur- 
mured something to the others about " suit, a 
model ; not successful, too showy," etc., and 
they nodded their heads and went smilingly 
away, and presently returned with a small suit 
in which the cloth seemed to serve simply as 
a necessary foundation on which to sew brass 
buttons. 

Jim Crow looked, and the next instant, in 
spite of my restraining touch, he was walking 
swiftly down the store on his hands to meet 
them. 

He hugged himself, he hugged the clothes, 
and was desperately determined to put them on 
then and there. At last I got them away from 
him long enough to have them and the accom- 
panying cap done up. But no sending of that 
package home. " No, no, no ! " He would 
carry it. Oh, he must ! He must ! 

As we turned to go one of the salesmen at- 



tempted to open the door for me ; but with a 
frowning face Jim Crow swept him aside, and 
laying his bundle on the floor, he stood on tip- 
toe and opened the door himself, using both 
little hands to do it; then, taking off the crown 
of his hat, he bowed me out, bowed to the 
ladies, took up his bundle, and danced to my 
side ; and so, amid laughter from the men, and 
such exclamations from the ladies as " How 
lovely ! " " Oh, what a cunning little fellow ! " 
we made our homeward start. 

I think we left an unbroken wake of smiles 
behind us as we moved. Once, however, Jim 
Crow found himself stirred to wrath. A great 
big white boy of about twelve years, I should 
say, laughed jeeringly at him, and cried loudly : 

" Sa-ay, bundle, where yer goin' with that 
kid?" 

Jim Crow stopped stock-still, and literally 
glared at the boy for a moment, while I felt 
his hand tremble in mine. Then he resumed 
his walk at my side in frowning silence. 

We were nearly home before he spoke; 
then, giving a great sigh, he said, looking up 
brightly into my face : 

" I 'se gwine to know dat trash boy when I 
sees him ag'in, I is." (Here came another and 
a bigger sigh — one of evident satisfaction.) 
" Yaas, Miss Cla'h ; I 'se gwine to lick dat boy 
clear into frazzles." 

" Why, Jim Crow ! What for ? " I cried, 
while my mind's eye saw a picture of a sparrow 
fighting a turkey-cock. - 

" What foh ? " echoed the mite ; then, draw- 
ing himself up and throwing back his shoul- 
ders, he continued : " What foh ? Why, foh 
'sultin' me when I 's walkin' wiv a lady." 

I had, of course, nothing more to offer, and, 
as frequently happened during our acquain- 
tance, Jim Crow had the last word. 

As I went up the front steps, he hurled him- 
self down the basement way, and before the 
front door closed upon me, I heard a Co- 
manche-like yell, followed by the oft-repeated 
word, " Boots ! boots ! boots ! " and knew that 
my lord and master had added the final drop 
to Jim Crow's surely overflowing cup of bliss. 

Presently he stood shyly before me, finger to 
lip, but with his happy, dancing eyes watching 
for the effect his finery would have upon me. 



>•] 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW. 



157 



And how pretty the little scamp looked ! The 
suit that had been too showy for a white child 
became him perfectly. Yes; from long, big 
man's boots, blue cloth, gold cord, and innu- 
merable buttons, to the cap, worn hind-side 
before " because it felt just like ole hat that- 
away," all was charming. 

After he had been duly admired, he failed to 
make his bow and retire, as I had expected 
him to do. Instead, he lingered shamefacedly. 
Evidently something was wrong. I noticed, 
too, that he was trembling. " Too much excite- 
ment," thought I. " He will be sick if I am not 
careful " ; so I said to him : 

" Jim Crow, you 've had no nap to-day. Had 
you not better lie down now, and sleep a little ? " 

" Dar's n't," was his instant answer. 

" Dare not ? " I cried. " Why, what do you 
mean ? " 

He hesitated a moment; then, grasping my 
skirts with both hands, as he always did when 
in trouble, he cried almost wildly : 

" Dey wants to take 'em off, Miss Cla'h ! 
You won't let 'em, will you, Miss Cla'h ? You 
won't let 'em ? " 

" But, my dear," I said, " you must take them 
off sometimes, you know." 

His voice rose to a positive shriek: "No; 
oh, please, please no! If I take 'em off w'ile 
dey 's new, sister '11 carry 'em off and sell 'em, 
every one!" 

Poor little man ! Not five years old, and 
such sad knowledge gleaned already from the 
great field of life ! I took his hand and led him 
downstairs, where, in his presence, I requested 
his mother and sister to leave him in peace, 
that he might enjoy his outfit in his own way. 

His faith in the honor of his family was not 
of a robust nature, for at eight o'clock he en- 
treated " Mee-ri er " to let him go to bed by 
his " loneself. No ; he was not afeard. No ; 
he did n't wan' no light; he could see from 
the hall. No, no, no ! he did n't want sister 
to put him to bed." So for the first time he 
clambered alone up those four long flights of 
stairs, and put his "loneself" to bed. 

At 1 1 p. m., hearing laughter from the upper 
rooms, and fearing some one might be teasing 
the child, I went up. The light had been 
turned on full, and there, with Misery sleeping 



by his side, lay Jim Crow. One little hand 
rested on Misery's neck; the other — ah! but 
it was sad to see — the other rested close to his 
throat, where it tightly clutched the fastening 
of his jacket. Yes, his jacket; for his sister at 
that moment roughly stripped the bedclothes 
down. He was in bed completely clothed, 
literally from top to toe ; for not only had he 
his boots on, but, having absolutely no faith in 
his family, he had for further safety tied his cap 
on with a piece of twine. 

'T was well I was there when the undress- 
ing took place, for I really believe the child 
would have had a fit, so great were his passion 
and his terror. I finally calmed him down by 
placing every article, boots and all, under his 
pillow, he smilingly declaring : " De humps dey 
cause make me feel good, 'case I know den 
dey is dar." 

I had been mildly reproved by one of my 
family for giving so lavishly to Jim Crow when 
Christmas was so near, and asked why I did 
not wait till then ? As far as giving a reason 
went, I had no reason to give ; only that 
" something " that so often says to me " Do ! " 
or " Do not do ! " and which I have so often 
and so recklessly ignored to my sorrow, had 
this time been listened to, and to this day I am 
grateful to that " something " because it kept 
murmuring to me, " If you are going to do 
anything for Jim Crow, perhaps you had better 
do it now. Why wait ? " 

I would not wait; I would do it now / And 
I pat my own back (as far as I can reach) in 
self-approval that, in spite of common sense 
and excellent reasons, I obeyed " something." 

Gross neglect of duty on the part of the sul- 
len buff sister had often been overlooked for 
Jim Crow's sake, and she presumed on that 
to add impertinence to her score ; but one day 
too much liquor and a narrowly averted con- 
flagration caused the dismissal of them all. 
The head of the house, having in alarmed 
anger given this order, left the city for the 
night on business, or things might have ended 
differently. 

So when darkness came there issued from the 
basement door the red-brown brother carry- 
ing bundles ; he was followed by the buff bane 
of the family, the sulky sister, carrying more 



158 



MY LITTLE "JIM CROW. 



bundles; and following her was Maria, the 
mother, weary, angry, and full of foreboding 
for their future ; she carried yet another bundle. 

But Jim Crow never moved a step. He 
stood in the center of the room, clutching 
firmly the edge of the large table. His lips 
were tightly pressed together, and his eyes 
were dull and heavy. 

Maria called loudly for him to " come along 
yere ! " 

He never moved. She came back, and, 
looking through the window, motioned for him 
to come. He never moved. Then the angry 
woman tossed her bundle to one of the others, 
and rushed back. As she entered, the little 
fellow lifted frightened eyes, and said in depre- 
cating tones : 

" Let 's wait, Mee-ri er; per'aps de boss may 
cum' right in now, an' tell me I can't go ! " 

" He 's tol' us all to go ! " snapped Maria. 

" Not me ! " said Jim Crow. " I 's always 



stood by de boss, an' now he 's gwine to stan' 
by me. I guess I know ! Oh, Mee-ri er, Mee- 
ri er! don' — don'! " 

Two sharp, quick, agonized cries broke from 
his grayish lips as Maria forced his little hands 
from their hold upon the table; then she 
gathered him up in her fierce, strong arms, and 
so went out of the basement door, with this 
— their last bundle. 

Those two piercing, all-abandoning cries had 
reached even to the floor above. 

" What 's that ? " I cried, and running to the 
parlor window, I caught a glimpse of a shadowy 
figure with a child over its shoulder. As they 
moved from me, for one chill moment the light 
fell full upon two straining, upraised eyes, and 
two piteous, pale little palms held vainly out to 
those five stories of stony silence; and then a 
great wave of inky darkness swept over them, 
and carried from me and mine, far out on the 
briny, bitter ocean of life, my little Jim Crow. 



-L^-.O 




YE eHRISTMASSE PUDDINGE. 

Dy irtalcolm Douqlas. 



7 



i 9 \ 



YE obristmasse ruddinae, smokinqe 
botte, 



01?, t is a aoodlie sigrjte I 
Qatte [jeartilie, an ye may ryde 

(d bonnie steede to-mante 

'wMf Ye steede bye folkes yclept H.iql?te- 



mare, 



i?at roams until ye liqpte. 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



By Klyda Richardson Steege. 




TENT OR PAVILION. 



It would be a strange sight to us if, in pass- 
ing through Central Park, we should come to a 
statue inscribed : 

To Henry Brown, 

CHAMPION OF THE FOOTBALL FIELD, 

or farther on to another with the words : 
To Arthur Murray, 

THE GREATEST BASEBALL-PITCHER OF HIS DAY. 

Yet there were once people who thought that 
men who made themselves famous in the na- 
tional games deserved much honor, and who 
actually did raise a statue to a football-player. 





His name was Aristonico Caristo, and he lived 
several thousand years ago, in the most beau- 
tiful city in the world, Athens. 

Athens, as you know, was a city adorned 
with wonderful sculpture, full of men and wo- 
men learned in art and great in literature; and 
students of Greek history believe that the wisest 
of the Athenians knew a great deal more about 
many things than we shall ever know, though 
of course they were not 
so well informed upon 
some topics as are men 




ALFIERE, OR STANDARD-BEARER. 



DRUMMER. 



TRUMPETER. 



of the present day. But in addition to being 
learned and wise they were also a very strong 
and brave people, and, to fit themselves for 
warfare whenever" they should be called upon, 
they kept their bodies in a perfect condition of 
health and their muscles continually trained by 
constant exercise in games and athletic contests. 
Every year they held the famous Olympian 
games, when all the young men of Greece con- 
tested for prizes, and when the winner of the 
race, or the victor in the wrestling-match, was 
rewarded with a crown of laurel or olive, and 
was accounted a great personage. 



m 



i6o 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



[Dec. 



Because the Greeks kept their bodies so 
strong and well developed, they were a beauti- 
ful race, and, having the skill to reproduce this 
beauty, they have left in their sculpture models 
which we still study for their perfection of form 



D 
S 


□ 
S 


ooooorjooooo 

R r R 


D 
S 


a 

S 


DS 

• 








N 

• 






p 

• 


SD 


DS , 
• 






K 

• 




L 

• 






M SD 

• 


DS E 

• 




G 

• 




D 

• 




H 

• 




F SD 
• 


DS 
















SD 


B 








A 








c 


DS 
















SD 


• 




• 




• 




• 




• 


DS 
















SD 


• 






• 




• 






• 


DS 
















SD 


□ s • 








• 






• 

sa 


S 

D 


S 

a 


Q n 

oooooU< 


Q 

DOOOO 


S 

D 


S , 

D 



PLAN AND ARRANGEMENT OF THE TWO SIDES AT THE 
BEGINNING OF THE GAME. 

A. Center Runners. K. Center Half-backs. 

B. Runners near the wall. L. Center Half-backs. 

C. Runners near the ditch. M. Half-back near the ditch. 

D. Center Fronts. N. Center back. 

E. Front near the wall. O. Back near the wall. 

F. Front near the ditch. P. Back near the ditch. 

G. Center Fronts. Q. Tent, Alfieri, Trumpeters, - 

R. Tent, Alfieri, Trumpeters, ■ 



H. Center Fronts, 
I. Half-back near the wall 



S. Halberdiers. 



and line. Even now we can pay no higher 
compliment than to say one resembles a Greek 
of the old days, a Greek who lived in what we 
call their golden age. 

Nowadays one hears a great deal of talk 
about the waste of time spent in athletics, and 
many sensible people disapprove of intercol- 
legiate contests and ball-games. Of course 
there is reason in their objections, for every 
good thing may be abused, and no doubt boys 
and young men often make athletics an excuse 
for neglecting their studies, or for spending a 



great deal of money and time in a perfectly 
useless way. But then, that is only one side 
of the question, and on the other hand we all 
know how little good work we can do with our 
brains if our bodies are feeble and our eyes 
and minds tired with constant reading 
and studying and bending our backs over 
desks. Whatever our occupation in life 
may be, we all need amusement and ex- 
ercise, and not to take enough time for it 
is quite as bad as taking too much. 

All the old nations knew the impor- 
tance of physical development. The Per- 
sians, the Macedonians, and the Spartans 
were always trained and ready to use 
their strength for their country's need. 
Of these latter people, when they were 
under the stern discipline of Lycurgus, 
an old writer says that their youths were 
so accustomed to severe bodily exercise 
that when there were no other walls of 
defense, the breasts of her citizens formed 
her protection. 

Among the sports of these nations who 

passed away so many centuries ago were 

always various kinds of ball-games ; and 

the Athenian whom his fellow-citizens 

considered worthy of a statue was honored 

for his excellence in the game called phe- 

ninda. This was the original form of 

football ; and from those early days until 

now it has been played by one set of 

people after another, until it has reached 

the present form. The Lacedaemonians 

used to have it, and a book was even 

written about it by a man called Timoc- 

c- rates. Homer sings of it as the game 

the heroes played, and several other 

Greek poets and authors mention it. In 

remoter times they played with a ball made 

of leather and blown up with air, and the 

players were divided into two parties, who 

each endeavored to send the ball over their 

opponent's goal at the opposite end of the 

field. Though first called pheninda, later it was 

episcyrus, and still later, when it had been 

for some time known among the Romans, har- 

pastum. There is extant an account taken 

from a book by a Greek named Julius Pollux, 

in the year 177 a. d., and dedicated to the 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



161 



Emperor Commodus, of the game as played 
at that time; and apparently it has changed 
very little since. 

As the Romans planted one colony after an- 
other, they brought with them their amuse- 
ments, as well as their arts and sciences; and 
so, in their settlement of Florentia — our mod- 
ern Florence — they established the game of 
harpastum. Perhaps other cities knew it, too, 
but for some unexplained reason this one 
town came to consider the game as especially 
belonging to itself, and there is no account of 
its being played elsewhere. The Florentines 
called it cdlcio, a word meaning a kick, and it 
formed one of the principal entertainments of 
the people. 

Until the early part of the eighteenth 
century it was played constantly during the 
winter, especially in carnival time; and no fes- 
tival in honor of a coronation, grand wedding, 
or entrance into the city of any distinguished 



one should read what a sixteenth-century writer 
says of its many advantages : 

All exercises and all arts of the gymnasium are com- 
bined in the game of calcio, which exercises every mus- 
cle and all parts of the body. It makes the body 
healthy, dexterous, and robust, and the mind alert and 
strong and eager for virtuous victory. 

This year, 1898, has been a memorable 
one in Florence, for it is the four hundredth 
anniversary of important historical events, as 
well as commemorative of men such as Tosca- 
nelli, Amerigo Vespucci, and Savonarola, who 
lived in the latter part of the fifteenth century. 
It was planned to have a grand festival in 
April, and to revive a number of the medieval 
spectacles. But it rained nearly all the festival 
days, and so a great part of the program 
could not be thoroughly carried out. Then 
there was a time of revolution and riot all over 
Italy, when Florence was under military rule,. 




stranger was complete without its game of cal- 
cio. Nearly all the Florentine historians and 
chroniclers mention it ; and to give an idea of 
what importance they attached to the game, 
Vol. XXVI.— 21. 



and no public gathering was permitted. Con- 
sequently the celebration on which so much 
thought had been spent, and of which so much 
was expected, did not altogether come up to its. 



l62 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



[Dec. 



ideal. But one feature of it was entirely a suc- 
cess, and that was the game of calcio. 

In former times, the square or piazza, in front 
of the Church of Santa Croce was generally 
the scene of the calcio, as well as of other 
public games or spectacles. It is very much in 




THE PROCESSION BEFORE THE GAME. 



the same condition now as it was five hundred 
years ago, and the beautiful church, which was 
begun in 1297, still stands, unharmed by the 
passing centuries. At one side of the piazza, a 
marble tablet in an old palace wall marks half 
its length, and where this tablet is was the spot 
against which the ball was thrown at the be- 
ginning of the calcio. 

It is one hundred and sixty years since the 
last calcio took place in Florence, and this 
year it could not be played on its old ground; 
for now there is a huge statue of Dante in the 
center of the piazza, and it is too big to move. 
Instead, then, of having the ancient palaces and 
church walls as a background, the game was 
played in an inclosure of the park by the 
river. The fifteenth-century costumes and the 
bright dresses of the spectators were seen to 
the best advantage against the fresh spring 
green of the trees, and the players had soft 



earth under their feet, instead of the hard stones 
of the city square. 

They held the rehearsals for the calcio in the 
great cloisters of another old church, Santa 
Maria Novella, where the monks used to 
walk and meditate, and where to-day soldiers 
drill. These young men 
of various nationalities 
shouted as they rushed 
about with as much free- 
dom as though on a 
college campus. The 
faded frescos of saints 
andmartyrs looked down 
on them, and occasion- 
ally the ball would strike 
a saint in the eye, or fly 
against another's halo. 
The soldiers were always 
passing in and out, and 
a few younger brothers 
looked on admiringly. 

But the rehearsals 
were nothing to the game 
itself, when everything 
possible was done to 
make it like the origi- 
nal calcio. There were 
trumpeters with the old 
Tuscan trumpets, hal- 
berdiers carrying halberds and wearing real 
armor belonging to the fifteenth century, the 
standard-bearers with their silk banners, the 
players in their costumes of white satin with 
blue, and white satin with red, and their long 
hair falling down on their shoulders. The sun 
shone fitfully that afternoon, and an occasional 
shower came down ; but no one was tempted 
to leave until all was finished, and the victory 
gained by the wearers of the red. Even the King 
and Queen, who were present, were undisturbed 
by the rain, and made no objections when, by 
a misdirected kick, the ball shot suddenly into 
the improvised royal box. 

The prettiest sight of all was the procession 
which, according to ancient custom, preceded 
the game. The trumpets blew, and there 
marched into the inclosure the quaintly dressed 
company, who made a circuit of the field. Fol- 
lowing the prescribed order, came first the 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



163 



trumpeters, then the drummers, halberdiers in 
between the various groups, then certain of the 
players, two by two. These last were supposed 
to imitate the effect of squares on a chess- 
board, and to that end the first couple was 
composed of a man from either side, each in 
his respective color, while the second couple 
reversed the colors, the third again was like the 
first, and so on. After these came the stan- 
dard-bearers, one for each side, more drums, 
other players, one of whom carried the ball, 
and finally musicians. There were one hun- 
dred and three persons in the procession, and 
the effect was very striking. The trumpets 
sounded when the game began, and whenever 
there was a victory to be recorded for one side 
or the other. It was all very interesting and 
picturesque, and it did not require much ima- 
gination to put one's self back in the old days 
when Lorenzo the Magnificent controlled the 
city, and the Florentines were great and rich 
and prosperous. 

On the night of the day following the calcio 
there was a magnificent costume ball given in 
the Palazzo Vecchio — 
the Old Palace. Here 
once more the calcio- 
players assembled,and, 
as on the field, made 
a circuit of the great 
hall. Among the 
brilliant throng of 
knights and soldiers, 
heroes and heroines 
of old stories and 
poems, none attracted 
more attention than the 
calcio - players, nor 
more faithfully copied 
the men of 1498, the 
year which Florence 
was commemorating. 

As a calcio club has 
been formed, we may 
have other opportun- 
ities of seeing the old costumes and customs 
revived, and thus have a permanent commem- 
oration of this year's centenary. 

In former times the Florentines would have 
thought the dresses which were worn this year 



much too poor and plain, for the rules in- 
sisted on suits of velvet, satin, or cloth of gold, 
and what was equal to several hundreds of dol- 
lars was spent on a single game. The costumes 
consisted of a jacket, tight-fitting trousers, and 
stockings made in one piece, thin shoes, and 
caps, and were frequently trimmed wherever 
possible with gold and silver lace, buckles, 
embroidery, feathers, and all sorts of rich and 
costly ornaments. As the rules say : 

The dresses of the players must be as light and con- 
venient as possible, because the less impediment they 
offer, the more easily can the men move, and the more 
agile will be their limbs. But especially should each 
one endeavor to have his clothes beautiful and gay, and 
to see that they are well-fitting and becoming to him, 
remembering that there will be present to see him the 
most charming ladies and the most noble gentlemen of 
the city, and whoever, therefore, appears badly dressed 
makes of himself an ugly sight. 

There were two kinds of calcio. One was the 
ordinary game, which was played at any time 
from January to the end of carnival, when there 
was not the same necessity for rich dress, and 




rHROWING THE BALL AT THE BEGINNING OF THE GAME. 



the players were expected only to wear differ- 
ent colors, distinguishing one side from the 
other. This was a somewhat impromptu game, 
and might be played whenever there were 
gathered enough nobles and gentlemen in an 



164 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



[Dec. 



appropriate place. Then two captains were 
selected, and those who wished to play having 
arranged themselves in a circle in the center 
of the field, each captain chose the men he 
wanted, and the game went on to its finish. 
But when the calcio was played in costume, 
the would-be players assembled first at the 



were permitted"; and the ages of those who 
played were supposed to range between eigh- 
teen and forty-five years. The general number 
of persons on a side was twenty-seven, making 
fifty-four in all, though this number might be 
more or less. The calcio was to be played in 
a large square, or piazza, where there should be 




CALCIO-PLAYERS READY TO ENTER THE FIELD. 



house of one of the principal nobles of the city, 
and the best men were carefully selected. The 
day would be fixed, and a notice published of 
it. Then they named two of the best-known 
and important young men as alfieri, or stan- 
dard-bearers, and on the appointed day each 
of these would invite all the men on his side to 
a feast. After this they started for the field, 
the standard-bearers and trumpeters first, and 
when all the players were assembled, they cast 
lots for places, and entered the field in order. 

As to the game itself, it was really rather 
complicated, and to go into all its details might 
prove tiresome, but these were its main points : 

" None but gentlemen, honored soldiers, or 
nobles might take part in the calcio ; no arti- 
sans, servants, infamous or common persons, 



room for ladies to see comfortably, and place 
for the general public. Around the square was 
erected a barrier or railing about one hundred 
and ten yards in length, fifty-four yards in 
width, and in height one yard. When, at the 
sound of the trumpets, the game was ordered 
to begin, all servants and persons who had no 
right there were sent off the field, and could 
not come nearer than behind this railing. 

At each end of the field was a goal over 
which the ball was to be kicked, and there was 
also erected a tent or pavilion for each side. 
These were decorated with the respective col- 
ors of the two sides, and here were stationed the 
musicians, halberdiers, captains, and so on. The 
judges, of whom there were six, three for each 
side, — men who had been famous players, — 



•] 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



165 



sat in a high place, where they could overlook 
all the field. Their decision was absolute, and 
a difference of views was settled by a majority 
of votes. The judges also took charge of the 
banners, and consigned them to the soldiers of 
the Grand Duke, when they were stationed 
each in front of its proper pavilion. 

The twenty-seven players were to be divided 
as follows : 

Fifteen Tnnanzi, or runners, who are placed in 
the front, and divided into three equal groups. 

Five Sconciatori, who try to impede the op- 
posite innanzi as they run with the ball. They 
may be called 
the fronts. 

Four Da- 
tori innanzi, 
or half-backs. 

Three Da- 
tori addietro, 
or backs. 

This ar- 
rangement of 
the three rows 
of the calcio 
was supposed 
to resemble 
the order of 
battle in the 
Roman army, 
the last row 
being most 
widely ex- 
tended of all. 
The innanzi 
took the place 
of spearmen, 
and the scon- 
ciatori repre- 
sented the 
elephants in 
ancient war- 
fare, or, later, 
the artillery. 



of the two sides, threw the ball against the 
marble tablet in the wall. In very ancient 
times the ball was placed in the center of the 
field, as now in football. 

As the ball bounced back among the players, 
the innanzi ran to kick it and push it toward 
the goal. 

The game was won by the side who made 
the greatest number of goals, called cdccia. It 
was considered equal to a caccia for one side 
when the other made two faults, or falli. A 
fallo was made when the ball, being thrown or 
hit with the open hand, bounced higher than 



When the 




THE ROYAL BOX. 



THE KING A 
DURING THE 



players had 

taken their 

places, as shown in the accompanying plan, the 

pallaio (so called because he carried the palla, 

or ball), dressed in a costume made in the colors 



ND QUEEN OF ITALY WATCHING THE GAME OF CALCIO 
FESTIVAL OF 1898 IN FLORENCE. 



the ordinary height of a man. It also consti- 
tuted a fallo when the ball fell outside the 
goal, beyond the ditch on one side. 



1 66 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



[Dec. 



Whenever a goal or a fault was made, the 
players changed sides, and the victorious ones 
carried their banners high and marched around 
to the pavilion at the opposite end. The con- 
quered party, on the other hand, was obliged 




:;ame in full swing on a 



to lower its banner. Sometimes this regula- 
tion caused trouble, as the young Florentines 
did not like to own themselves beaten, and 
would occasionally refuse to lower their flag. 
Then their opponents would rush to compel 
them to it, and frequently in such a scrimmage 
the banners would be torn and the players 
injured. This, however, was considered ex- 
tremely undignified and entirely contrary to all 
rules. 

The regulations as to politeness and dignity 
were strict, and the old book of rules drawn up 
in the sixteenth century has a long chapter on 
the general conduct of players, and speaks with 
praise of young men who will not allow " an- 
ger, envy, or any other passion " to make them 
rough or inclined to retaliate fiercely if they 
are injured by mistake; and the subject is 
thus concluded : 

This principally is demanded in the calcio : for with- 
out such harmony it would not be an amiable rivalry of 
gentlemen, but an angry fight of mad beasts ; and who- 
ever makes it otherwise than this should remain dis- 
honored by all noble persons of the city. 



The game ended when the clocks sounded 
twenty-four, which in old Italian reckoning 
was about sunset, and the signal to stop was 
given by the explosion of two masti, or mortars. 
The banners were then given to the alfiere of 
the victorious side, un- 
less there happened to 
be a tie, when each 
alfiere received again 
his banner. 

There are a great 
many entertaining ac- 
counts given of the 
calcio as it used to be 
played. In the time 
of Lorenzo de' Medici 
there were several songs 
written about it, and 
nearly all the writers 
of that period and later 
mention it. Of all the 
notable games, perhaps 
none was more brilliant 
than one played in 
1584, as portion of 
the " Pomp and of the 
Fetes made on the coming to the City of 
Florence of His Serene Highness Don Vincenzo 
Gonzaga, Prince of Mantua and of Monferrato, 
for his consort, Her Serene Highness, Donna 
Leonora, daughter of the Prince of Tuscany." 

On this occasion there were many noblemen 
among the players. One part were dressed in 
yellow, the jackets being of satin, and the close- 
fitting trousers, or tights, of cloth of gold, the 
whole suit striped with silver. Their caps were 
of yellow velvet, ornamented with ostrich- 
plumes, gold medals, and pearls. Those of 
the red were dressed in similar fashion, except 
for the difference in color and the ornamenta- 
tion of their costumes, which was of gold in- 
stead of silver. The pallaio of this party (for 
there was at this time a pallaio for each side) 
wore red satin, and the ball which he carried 
was of red and yellow. After him followed 
four trumpeters in red cloth, and two drummers 
similarly dressed. Then two Germans, playing 
flutes. After these came the pallaio of the 
other side, in a costume of yellow, followed by 
the same order of trumpets, drums, and flutes. 



RAINY .DAY. 



FOOTBALL OF LONG AGO. 



167 



The standard-bearers (alfieri) came on the field 
dressed like the others, excepting their hose, 
which were more richly trimmed, and entirely 
covered, the red with gold, and the yellow with 
silver embroidery. There were also pages in 
the respective colors of the two parties. On 
the morning before the game each alfiere had 
given a sumptuous lunch to his party, when 
they had had the most delicate food and a 
plenteous supply of the finest sweetmeats. 

The banners were of thin silk, and to each 
banner there were six Germans, dressed in the 
German fashion, and in red or yellow, accord- 
ing to the side to which they belonged. The 
other gentlemen who were to take part in the 
game wore costumes as above mentioned. 
The master of the calcio, elected by the Grand 
Duke, bore all the expenses, and prepared the 
confections and wines. But the alfieri paid 
for their own costumes, and for the feast they 
gave to the players. The masters were dressed 
somewhat differently from the others, their 
doublets or jackets being made of lace, red or 
yellow, with gold or silver underneath showing 
through. 

All the gentlemen having arrived, they made 
a circuit of the piazza, and after the ball was 
thrown the game began. At first the yellow 
gained ; but at the end the red had the advan- 
tage, and conquered. Each caccia was followed 
by shots of cannon, and after the second caccia 
the players all stood together while a song in 
praise of the game was sung. 

Then, to refresh those who had need of it, 
there were brought fifty-two great silver bowls, 
all full of the finest confections, and an immense 
number of flasks of the choicest wines. These 
were carried into the piazza by sixty-two young 
girls, three of whom, dressed in costumes like 
the players, acted as stewards, one of them 



waiting on the judges, the other two on the 
players. The covering of the flasks was all of 
red and gold. 

When they had eaten and drunk all that they 
wanted, they began to throw the confections 
among the people surrounding them until all 
were scattered. Then, beginning the game 
again, they continued until dark night. The 
piazza where they played was surrounded by 
platforms like theater galleries, and yet there 
was not place for half the people. The houses 
were all full, and even the roofs were crowded; 
and it is believed that altogether more than 
forty thousand persons were present. 

Six thousand scudi, about six thousand dol- 
lars, were spent on this calcio. 

Among other games which are mentioned 
particularly was one played during the siege of 
Florence, on February 17, 1529, by the same 
class of men, the soldiers, and others who had 
been engaged in the defense of the city. To 
show their defiance of the enemy, they stationed 
musicians on the roof of Santa Croce Church. 
The besiegers fired volleys from the hills just 
outside the town, but fortunately no one was 
injured. The young men probably finished 
their game, and then went out to return the 
shooting with fresh vigor. This calcio was 
given as a sort of challenge to the enemy, and 
to let them know that the Florentines had so 
little fear of them that they had even time for 
amusements. 

The last calcio before this one of 1898 was 
played on January 19, 1738, when the Grand 
Duke Francis II. of Lorraine and the Arch- 
duchess Maria arrived in Florence. And since 
that time the game has fallen entirely into dis- 
use and been almost forgotten. It would be 
interesting if this year's revival of it should 
once more bring it into favor. 





CAPTION 

The Goops they are too soft to hurt 
When they 're run over in the dirt 
But you have little bones that break, 
And little arms and legs to ache; 
So I shall listen for your screams 
If you catch on behind the teams! 




Vol. XXVI.— 22 



BOOKS AND READING FOR YOUNG FOLK. 



On Christmas eve or Christmas day it is not 
an uncommon custom, in some families, to read 
aloud Dickens's " Christmas Carol " ; and in 
many ways the custom is a good one. But an 
American might also do honor to a writer of 
our own land by reading Washington Irving's 
delightful essays on Christmas, in the " Sketch 
Book." Nowhere else can be found a more 
delightful account of the old traditions of the 
day ; even Dickens does not leave the reader 
in a more wholesome state of mind for the 
holiday season: 

" Those who at Christmas do repine 
And would fain hence despatch him, 
May they with old Duke Humphrey dine, 
Or else may Squire Ketch catch 'em." 



" Forlorn hope " is a name often given to a 
small body of men making an attack under 
desperate circumstances. It is a curious name, 
and, strangely enough, possibly has nothing to 
do with either " forlorn," as the word is com- 
monly used, or with the usual sense of " hope." 
An author speaks of it as an opposite to 
" rearelom hope," in a book published in 1600 ; 
and in 1849 the phrase was explained as 
meaning " forward head " — forlorn being equiv- 
alent to forward, and hope to haupt, or head. 
The phrase therefore meant " leading body " of 
soldiers — the van. The most recent diction- 
aries say that forlorn here means verloren, or 
lost, in German; but the older explanation is 
quite as probable. At all events, the question 
is worth looking into some day when you are in 
a library and can examine good authorities. 



The real names of certain learned and cele- 
brated men are often little known. Thus, the 
older Balzac's real name was Guez (a beggar) ; 
Erasmus was really Gerhard; Melanchthon is a 
translation of Schwarzerd; Metastasio's proper 
name was Trapassi. Voltaire and Plato and 



John Paul Jones, all were changed names. 
Diocletian, the Roman emperor, was once 
Diodes. Lewis Carroll is a well-known pseudo- 
nym; Peter Parley was used by several writers 
as a pen-name; and Mark Twain is more widely 
known by that name than by his own. Tam- 
erlane and Masaniello are two proper names 
connected with an interesting history. Tinto- 
retto and Domenichino are nicknames. Many 
of the Italian artists bear fanciful names by 
which alone they are popularly known. Who 
can give other instances of celebrated men 
best known by assumed names ? 



In " How to Form a Library," by H. E. 
Wheatley, the author says : 

The children for whom Miss Kate Greenaway and 
Mr. Caldecott draw and Mrs. Gatty and Mrs. Ewing 
write are indeed fortunate ; but we must not forget that 
Charles and Mary Lamb wrote delightful books for the 
young, that Miss Edgeworth's stories are ever fresh, 
and that one of the most charming children's stories 
ever written is Mrs. Sherwood's " Little Woodman." 

Does any boy or girl now read this book ? 
Will some St. Nicholas reader volunteer to 
tell us about it ? 

When Henry M. Stanley set out to cross 
Africa, he started, he says, with one hundred 
and eighty pounds of books; but as his men 
were " stricken by famine, fighting, and sick- 
ness," the books were gradually abandoned 
until only five were left. Two of these were 
an almanac and a book on navigation, kept 
for their practical value, and the remaining 
three were the Bible, Shakspere's works, and Car- 
lyle's " Sartor Resartus." He said, " Poor Shak- 
spere was afterward burned by demand of the 
foolish people of Zinga. At Bonea, Carlyle 
and Norie and nautical almanac were pitched 
away, and I had only the old Bible left." 

Here was a practical test of the relative 
value of the greatest books to a man of action ! 



BOOKS AND READING FOR YOUNG FOLK. 



171 



It is often interesting to make a list of the 
few best books, say a dozen, that you would 
choose if you were going to a desert island 
for the rest of your life, and could never have 
others. 

You will be surprised to see what books are 
chosen by different persons. Try to make out 
a list for yourself, and compare lists with other 
readers of about your own age. 



A writer in an old number of " Notes and 
Queries" says that Peter James Martelli, a native 
of Bologna, composed a little play for wooden 
puppets. It was called " The Sneezing of Her- 
cules," and told how the demigod once wandered 
into the land of the pygmies. Taking him for 
a moving mountain, the tiny people hid in holes 
and caverns. Hercules fell asleep, and was 
attacked by hundreds of the little creatures, 
armed with rushes. One of them having 
poked the great giant's nose, Hercules sneezed, 
and the little fellows fled in dismay. 

There is something in this scene not unlike 
the first appearance of Gulliver in Lilliput 
Land. 

Dean Swift wrote on the fly-leaf of a book 
of travels : 

If this book were stript of its impertinence, conceited- 
ness, and tedious digressions, it would be almost worth 
reading, and would then be two thirds smaller than it is. 

1720. J. Swift. 



formation. Very likely it may have been sug- 
gested by a verse in the book of the Bible 
called Ecclesiastes (x. 20) : 

A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which 
hath wings shall tell the matter. 



" A little bird told me " is a humorous 
excuse for not telling the source of one's in- 



Pliny says that Cicero once saw the Iliad 
of Homer written so minutely that it could be 
contained in a nutshell. Disraeli, in his " Cu- 
riosities of Literature," tells that a learned man 
named Huet once proved that this was possi- 
ble. He showed that a piece of vellum 10 
inches long and 8 broad would admit of 30 
verses being written across, and 250 such lines 
would go upon each side, making 7500 verses 
(or lines of the poem) on the front and the 
same on the back of the vellum — thus giving 
room for the 15,000 lines of Homer's poem. 

Dr. Brewer, author of " The Reader's Hand- 
book," also discusses this question of the nut- 
shell Homer and tells how an engraver far 
excelled any penman's achievement in com- 
pressing letters within a small space. 

Photography has recently compressed the 
whole English Bible into as small a space; 
and this miniature work may be bought for less 
than a dollar ! Of course it can be read only 
with a magnifying-glass. No doubt many 
boys and girls have seen one of these tiny 
Bibles in a bookstore. 

It has been suggested that a whole encyclo- 
pedia could, by a similar process, be made into 
a vest-pocket volume. 



When a boy or a girl finds a good bit of reading, what is more natural than to seek a friend 
to share the pleasure of the discovery ? The conductors of this department will be very glad 
if its readers will share any nuggets unearthed from the Klondike of Literature by forwarding 
them so that they may be shown to the St. Nicholas boys and girls. But the show-window is 
not so very large, and the nugget must be valuable or bright or odd enough to be worth the 
space. If your nugget seems a treasure to you, the conductors will be glad to make an assay 
of it, and to show the quality of the gold to the appreciative eyes of our readers. 

Please send with any extracts from books or periodicals a reference to the source of the 
quotation, in order that it may be carefully verified, and proper credit given where due. 



CURRENT EVENTS. 



VESUVIUS. 

After sixteen years of quiet, Mount Vesu- 
vius has again been in eruption. This volcano 
is probably the most noted of the three hundred 
or more known to our geographers. 

The mountain is about twenty-five miles 
around at its base, and three quarters of a mile 
high. There is at the top a great crater, which 
is two thousand feet across and five hundred 
feet deep. But at every eruption other craters 
are formed around the great opening, and dur- 
ing the recent outbreak eight new craters 
spouted hot lava, flame, smoke, and steam. 

The eruptions of a volcano often are pre- 
ceded by earthquakes. Thus, in 1857, repeated 
earthquake shocks were felt at intervals in the 
country around Naples. Several towns were 
destroyed, and thousands of people perished. 
But the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 1858 
afforded an escape for the confined gases, and 
doubtless prevented the destruction of Naples. 

A volcano four hundred feet high was formed 
on the west coast of Italy in two days, and was 
named " Monte Nuova," meaning " New Moun- 
tain." The earth round about it was elevated 
so that what had been the bottom of the bay 
was raised far above the water-level, and the 
fish suddenly lay gasping on the land. 

An active volcano may have slight, nearly 
harmless, eruptions every few years, and then 
suddenly burst forth and lay waste the sur- 
rounding country ; or a volcano which is con- 
sidered extinct may again become active. 
Mount Vesuvius is always in a more or less 
eruptive state ; but notwithstanding the danger, 
a railroad from its base nearly to its top enables 
the curious to ride up to the great crater. 

THE PHILIPPINES. 

This archipelago, which was discovered by 
Magellan in 1521, and named the "Philip- 
pines " by the Spanish in honor of King Philip 
II., is made up of over twelve hundred islands, 
and forms a division between the China Sea 
and the Pacific Ocean. The nine largest islands 
are Luzon, Mindanao, Samar, Panay, Mindoro, 
Leyte, Negros, Cebii, and Bohol. 

It is on Luzon that the city of Manila 



stands— a large city, with a population of 
about two hundred thousand. The total num- 
ber of inhabitants on all the islands is about 
eight millions. These people, with the excep- 
tion of a few thousands, are Malay Indians, 
who are divided into two tribes, the Tagals 
and the Visayans. Although uneducated, the 
people are not savage, but devote themselves 
to farming, fishing, and simple manufacturing. 
The great forests contain ebony, cedar, and 
rare tropical woods ; the fruit-trees offer 
oranges, tamarinds, mangos, and cocoanuts ; 
and in the farms and gardens are abundant 
rice, hemp, tobacco, coffee, bananas, vanilla, 
indigo, pineapples, and ginger. The mineral 
wealth of the Philippines includes gold, copper, 
iron, coal, and quicksilver, and the surrounding 
sea holds amber, coral, and mother-of-pearl. 
But commerce is held back by the lack of 
facilities to use these treasures. The industries 
are carried on as they were two hundred years 
ago. 

In Manila, during the summer no one 
ventures out of doors between 8 a. m. and 4 
p. m. The whole town rises at four in the 
morning, and attends to its business and house- 
hold duties before eight o'clock. The children 
go to school during these early hours, and the 
civil and military offices are open. Then, as 
the heat becomes intense, every one goes into 
his house and stays there until sunset. The 
evening, often breezy and cool, is devoted to 
visiting, sight-seeing, or promenading. Manila 
is certainly not a beautiful city ; not a dozen 
attractive buildings have been erected there in 
as many years. 

The houses are old two-story affairs, with 
board shutters. In the center of each house 
is an open-air court, called the patio. All the 
rooms open on this court, which is adorned 
with palms and vines, and is used as a family 
sitting-room and dining-room. Instead of 
panes of glass, semi-transparent oyster-shells 
are used in the windows, in order to temper 
the fierce rays of the sun. 

The Manilans are like Spaniards, but the 
average Philippine Islander is a peaceful sort 
of creature, who would welcome good govern- 
ment and education. 

C. W. 



172 



■ THE LETTER-BOX. 



In answer to many inquirers, the editor is glad to an- 
nounce that during the coming year, Mr. Rupert Hughes 
will continue his amusing account of " The Lake- 
rim Athletic Club." The famous "Dozen" will soon 
greet again their many friends among St. Nicholas 
readers. 



RIDDLE. 

I have two legs, but cannot stand alone ; 
Two arms, and they have neither flesh nor bone ; 
A chest expansive, neck and shoulders fine ; 
A back that 's broad enough, yet has no spine ; 
A body without head, or hands, or feet ; 
Still, this creation you will find complete. 

I travel far and wide, but understand 
That I was born in Oriental land ; 
There was I christened, and my foreign name 
Gives me my prestige and my lasting fame. 

F. B. Griswold. 



Oakland, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : We have taken your magazine 
for over twenty years — long before I was born ; but ever 
since I have been able to read, I have enjoyed it and 
looked forward to it every month. 

I have just returned from a most interesting trip, and 
I would like to tell you about it. A party of us started 
last Friday morning for Mill Valley, a small country- 
place, from which the Mount Tamalpais scenic railway 
runs. It was a beautiful morning, but quite foggy 
toward the ocean. However, we had a beautiful view 
of San Francisco Bay and vicinity. On reaching the 
summit, the little tavern looked so inviting that we de- 
cided to remain all night. By five o'clock the fog had 
lifted entirely, and the view was magnificent. As soon 
as it was dark, we all stood on the porch of the tavern 
and looked at the wonderful sight before us. The city 
of San Francisco, lit up with thousands of lights, was 
like a huge cluster of diamonds ; and the many smaller 
towns around it added greatly to the brilliancy of the 
scene. The night was beautifully clear, and we could 
see many miles out at sea the revolving light on the Faral- 
lone Islands. We came down the mountain early the 
next morning, and took a conveyance for Point Bonita 
Lighthouse. The light is situated on a low bluff over- 
looking the Pacific just outside the Golden Gate. It is 
a second-order light, but, nevertheless, a very fine one. 
It is also a stationary light, and can be seen seventeen 
miles out at sea. The following day we went out to our 
ranch, which is called Point Reyes Rancho, and is 76,000 
acres in extent. A large portion of it lies along the 
Pacific, and on the extreme northern point is Point 
Reyes Lighthouse, the largest lighthouse in the world. 
We started at five in the morning, and reached the 
lighthouse by 10 : 30. You have to walk seven hundred 
steps down the cliff to the lighthouse. It is a first-order 
light, having five wicks, the Point Bonita light having 



three. It is a revolving light, and can be seen twenty- 
three miles at sea. Around the light is a revolving cover 
of cut glass, which catches the rays of the light and 
throws them far out to sea. Coming up, the steps made 
fourteen hundred altogether, and we have felt lame ever 
since. It was a most interesting trip. 

With many wishes for the prosperity of St. Nicholas 
for many years to come, I remain your devoted reader, 
Edna Shafter Orr. 



Portsmouth, N. H. 

Dear St. Nicholas: We stayed here last sum- 
mer on a branch of the Piscataqua, two miles out of 
town. It was the third summer that we had been here. 
The day we got down here the "St. Louis" came in 
with about four hundred Spanish prisoners on board. 
A little later the " Harvard " come in with some more. I 
have seen them several times on my way to the shoals, 
and some of the times they were washing their clothes 
in the salt water. My father and mother saw them hav- 
ing a mock bull-fight one day. I went out to-day in a 
small sloop to see the English ocean liner " City of 
Rome," which came to take the Spaniards home. We 
saw Admiral Cervera on board, who took off his hat to 
us and smiled. A great many blankets were loaded on 
board for the Spanish prisoners. They have gone at 
last, and their stockade is empty. 

I liked your story " Two Biddicut Boys," and hope 
you will have another like it soon. 

Your affectionate reader, S. A. Sargent, Jr. 



Kittery PofNT, Maine. 

My dear St. Nicholas : I was very much interested 
in your account of " Weather-vanes," and where I am 
staying this summer — Kittery Point, Maine — there are 
quite a good many kinds. I saw one with three little 
soldiers on a stick, waving their arms with the wind. It 
had a little wheel on the end which also whirled in the 
wind. Then I saw a pole with four little sail-boats with 
their sails set, and their bows all pointing the same way, 
and revolving around the pole. 

I was very fond of windmills and weather-vanes always, 
and your account in the July number interested me 
greatly. 

I look forward to your coming every month, and I en- 
joy you very much. 

I wish you a long life, dear St. Nk:holas. 
I am always your devoted reader, 

"Sadie Stanforth." 



Owosso, Mich. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I live in Owosso, Michigan. 
Owosso is a very pretty little town. You see, it has an In- 
dian name. It was named after an Indian chief, and it 
means "bright spot." There used to be many Indians 
around here; and now children digging on the banks of 
the river have dug up stone arrow-heads. The river is 
called Shiwasee, which is also an Indian name, and 
means "winding river." There was once a coal-mine on 
the bank of it. About three miles from Owosso are 
some mines called the Owosso Coal-mines. The coal 



»73 



174 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



taken from here is very good. We have mineral springs 
also. A mastodon's tusk was dug up here about a 
year ago ; but it has, of course, fallen to nothing now. 
I remain your loving reader, 

Helen Grahame. 



Greytown, Natal, South Africa. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am a little English girl, and 
I thought I would write to you, because I have never 
seen a letter from Natal before. 

I wonder if you have heard of the rinderpest ? It 
came from Matabeleland, and it was here for several 
months last year. It killed a great many cattle. One 
farmer near here had seven hundred cattle, and now he 
has only thirty left. 

We generally spend our holidays out at our farm, 
where my father has a large wattle-plantation. The 
wattle-trees are chopped down when they are about 
seven or eight years old, and the bark is stripped off 
and sent to the tanneries, to be used in tanning leather. 
Our trees are not old enough to be stripped yet. 

In winter brakes have to be burned round the planta- 
tions, because there is so much danger from the grass- 
fires, which often burn down plantations if they are not 
well protected. 

Your loving reader, Norah E. Fannin. 



Hattusburg, Miss. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little girl twelve years 
old, and have been reading you for one year, a»d like 
you ever so much more than I can tell. The "Letter- 
box" is most interesting to me, and I have just been 
reading the letter from Tarrytown about Sleepy Hollow 
and Ichabod Crane, and it is just what we had in our 
school lesson in American classics ; and the two little 
French girls, I like them too, only I wish they had been 
on our side instead of for Spain. I have a brother in 
the army, but he is to be mustered out soon, we hope. 
I have no nice pets, only a mocking-bird, and have no 
wonderful things to write you, as many of your little 
friends have ; but I hope you will be glad to hear from 
a little friend who lives where the Gulf breezes blow and 
the forests are decorated in spring with the beautiful 
magnolia. Your admiring reader, 

Maggie Hurst. 



Sackett's Harbor, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have never seen a letter in 
you from here, so I thought I would write one. I am 
just past fourteen, and have taken you since 1890. I 
think you very interesting. I liked especially " Denise 
and Ned Toodles." I have all your numbers saved up, 
and some day I shall have them bound. I like to go 
back and read the stories I Iveve forgotten or was too 
young to understand. 

I have a young cat named "Remus Toddie." She 
is black all over except three white spots on her breast. 
She has a kitten named " Nig Second." 

There is a United States military post here named 
Madison Barracks, and since the war with Spain the 
troops were ordered away. It was the gallant Ninth 
Regulars who raised the flag at Santiago. The good-by 
was something never to be forgotten. It was so sad to 
see the long line of blue-coats, and think we might never 
see the men again. Yet it was good to think what a 
noble army the United States has, and how ready they 
are to defend their country at a moment's warning. 
The streets were crowded so that it was difficult to pass. 
Wives, children, sisters, and friends surrounded them 
for last good-bys. 



Some of the soldiers' friends received from Tampa 
several live young alligators, and other things which are 
curious to us. There is a lady ninety years old living 
here who can remember the War of 1812. There was a 
fight here, and the captain ordered all women and chil- 
dren to go out of the town. Her aunt would not go, 
but stayed at home and made bread for the soldiers. 
While she was baking, a cannon-ball rolled across her 
front porch and smashed a baby-carriage that stood 
there. After the fight the soldiers came rushing into 
her house, and grabbed the loaves of bread, some of 
them half baked, from the oven, they were so hungry. 

Last year the government dredge was clearing out 
the harbor, and one day brought up an old British can- 
non, which was supposed to have been used in the naval 
fight in 1812. It is now mounted on a large glacial-pe- 
riod boulder (which was also brought up by the dredge), 
on the village green. My mother remembers rolling 
bandages and making lint during the Civil War, when 
she was just my age. 

My mother is a " Daughter of the American Revolu- 
tion," and belongs to the Red Cross, too. 
I remain your devoted reader, 

Julia G. McKee. 



Narragansett Pier, R. I. 

Dear St. Nicholas : This is the first time I have 
written you, to tell you how much I enjoy reading you. 

I have one brother and no sisters, and this brother is 
very fond of natural history, as I am of botany. 

This fall I was driving a pair of ponies, when I 
came to a field full of goldenrod. My brother, who was 
with me, exclaimed : " Look at the sea-gulls ! " 

I saw on a rock hundreds of sea-gulls, looking like 
little white fluffy snowballs. While 1 was examining 
the goldenrod, I heard a great noise, looked up and 
saw the sea-gulls flying far out to sea. My brother re- 
turned and told me that through his glass he saw some 
ring-necked gulls among them. I found five different 
species of goldenrod. They were the common golden- 
rod, the bushy, the plumy, the small-spiked, and the 
noble goldenrod. I gathered some of each kind and 
brought it home. I am your devoted reader, 

Mildred Booth Grossmann. 



Dear St. Nicholas: I thought you would like to 
hear about my pets. We have a horse which can per- 
form many cunning tricks. She is very fond of sugar, 
and will put her nose into papa's pocket to see if he 
has any. When we give her some she will rub her nose 
into our necks to kiss us. Her name is " Bess." 

We have another horse who has a very cunning way 
of getting her dinner. Day after day the oats were 
spilled out of the bin without any one knowing how 
they were spilled. But one day, when I was watching, 
I saw a long brown nose stretch out of the stall and 
coolly take off the cover of the oats bin, and when the 
oats had stopped falling Miss Juno had a fine meal. I 
must stop now. Your devoted reader, 

Katharine Harlow. 



We thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them : Margaret C. Phil- 
lips, Celeste Heckscher, Sara Hardenbergh, Jane B. 
Wheeler, Ruth Townsend, Milton R. Williams, Addie 
Smith, John F. Frye, R. L. and M. J., Helen Katherine 
Cahen, Eleanor Morris, Gladstone Allen, Jeannette 

K , Marie McNeal, Villette Clautice, Martha Mc- 

Nicol, Hazel Irving Fischer, Julia H. Voorhees, William 
Maser Beck, S. B. N., Carl Ford, A. L. B., Victoria N. 
Gary, Eleanor Mann. 



ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER. 



Riddle. B, Bee. 



Progressive Numerical Enigmas, i. Aspire. 2. Apennine. 
3. Bandanna. 4. Armor. 5. Mean. 6. Hereafter. 7. Stagnate. 

8. Avail. 9. Assigning. 10. Assure. 11. Begin. 12. Beat. 

Central Acrostic. William McKinley. 1. Sewer. 2. Pride. 

3. Silly. 4. Bulky. 5. Briny. 6. Boats. 7. Cameo. 8. Times. 

9. Races. 10. Pikes. 11. Rhine. 12. Pines. 13. Bolus. 14. 
Trend. 15. Bayou. 

Cross-word Enigma. Nansen. 

Illustrated Puzzle. Peasant, caravel, pencils, statues. Tape, 
area, pens, east. 

Rhymed Word-square, i. Yale. 2. Atol. 3. Loam. 4. 
Elms. 



Concealed Diamond. From 1 to 12, Indian Summer. Cross 
words: 1. Capital. 2. Coronal. 3. Reminds. 4. Mascali. 5. 
Immoral. 6. Spurned. 7. Mission. 

Zigzag. Arthur Hugh Clough. Cross-words: 1. Anvils. 2. 

Crates. 3. Batter. 4. Sashes. 5. Murmur. 6. Mortar. 7. 

Faiths. 8. Though. 9. Zigzag. 10. Shames, n. Creeks. 12. 
Sleeve. 13. Acorns. 14. Clouds. 15. Enrage. 16. Enough. 



A November Charade. Prince-ton. 



Word-squares. I. 1 
II. 1. Pale. 2. Aged. 



, Mane. 
3. Lead. 



Area. 
Eddy. 



3. Near. 4. Ears. 



Concealed Double Acrostic. Primals, family ; finals, feasts. 
Cross-words : 1. Fief. 2. Amuse. 3. Malta. 4. Indwells. 5. 
Light. 6. Yours. 

To our Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the September Number were received, before September 15th, from Nessie and Freddie — 
C. W. B. T. — Louise Ingham Adams. 

Answers to Puzzles in the September Number were received, before September 15th, from Raymond Mount, 1 — Doiis 
Stanton, 1 — Paul Reese, 7 — B. C. Hart, 1 — K. S. and Co., 1 — Lesley B. Crawford, 1 — Mary K. Rake, 1 — Rena and Mai Seay, 1 — 
Etta and Betty, 8 — Mildred Taylor, 1 — S. Weinstein and H. A. Seeligman, 4 — Jack and George A., 9 — Musgrave Hyde, 7 — Unc!e 
Will, E. Everett, and F. J., 6 — Mabel M.Johns, 9 — Sigourney Fay Nininger, 9 — No name, New Orleans, 6 — Marguerite Sturdy, 5 — 
Helen Sears, 1. 



DOUBLE ACROSTIC. 

My primals and finals each name a famous poet. 

Cross-words: i. A kind of wild goose. 2. To 
washout. 3. Made of oak. 4. To rouse. 5. Clamor- 
ous. 6. Objects that are worshiped. 7. An African. 
8. A deep moan. J. o. 

RHYMED BEHEADINGS. 

Round and round and round I go, 
Cause of pleasure, cause of woe. 
Take off my head, and I am put 
Wherever you may rest your foot. 
Behead again ; I 'm in the flood, 
A creature not averse to mud. 
Behead once more ; your elbow 'd be 
Quite fractured now, except for me. 
Should you cut off my head again 
I still am good for five times ten. 

A. M. P. 
NOVEL DOUBLE ACROSTIC. 

I . . IO 
2 .... II 

3 12 

4 13 

5 14 

6 15 

7 16 

8 .... 17 
9 . . 18 

Cross-words: i. A close-fitting cap. 2. A Euro- 
pean bird. 3. Shines. 4. Motive. 5. A cooling bev- 
erage flavored with the root of a familiar plant. 6. 



Consisting of trochees. 7. Numerous. 8. A genus of 
leguminous trees and shrubs. 9. A support. 

Primals, from I to 9, a word that all love ; finals, from 
IO to 18, what we all strive to make it. " CALAMUS." 

WORD-SQUARES. 

I. 1. A metal. 2. To travel. 3. Inequality. 4. 
A snug place. 

II. 1. A period of time. 2. Otherwise. 3. Re- 
quests. 4. Repose. 

III. 1. Auction. 2. An old word meaning "to 
lose." 3. An animal. 4. A volcano. 

IV. I. A KIND offish. 2. A monster. 3. Weapons. 
4. A table. Florence and celia p. 

RIDDLE. 

Pray note first my ubiquity : 

At home in every land, 
Although of great antiquity, 

I 'm made each day by hand. 

I cannot run to catch you 
With but one foot, you say ; 

In one respect I match you — 
I 've my clothes put on each day. 

I am not economical; 

With maid I take the air, 
But must look rather comical — 

She never combs my hair. 

My head ne'er aches as yours may do, 

Nor can I nod and beck ; 
But no one would expect me to, 

Because I have no neck. 

I pray you come and see me ; 

At home all day I bide ; 
But evenings I am dreamy 

And often occupied. s. s. green. 



'75 



176 



THE RIDDLE-BOX. 



DIAMOND. 



I. In sailor. 2. Object. 3. Steel or iron covering. 
4. Like. 5. Overgrown with a tiny fungus. 6. A kind 
of fish. 7. In sailor. 

"CELERY." 
ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC. 




MB* 



wt 



When the ten objects in the above picture have been 
rightly guessed and arranged in proper order, their 
initials will reveal a benefactor. 

CHARADE. 

My first is full of sweetness, 
Yet fills the thief with dread ; 

My last is always silent 

When peevish words are said. 

My whole is seldom written, 
Though recently 't was read. 

ANNA M. PRATT. 

ZIGZAG. 

ALL of the words described contain the same number 
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed 
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag, 
beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell the 
name of a famous general. 

Cross-words : 1. Benevolent. 2. An equal. 3. A 
desolate tract of land. 4. A wild animal. 5. A wise 



man. 6. An achievement. 7. Sly. 
of a ship. 10. Hasty. 11. Grasp, 
high wind. 14. A heavenly body. 
16. A pledge. 



8. A poet. 9. Part 
12. Soon. 13. A 
15. An apartment. 

S. M. M. 



FRAMED WORD-SQUARE. 

I 2 



3 4 

From I to 2, what Shakspere says one should not be; 
from I to 3, a nostril in the top of the head of a whale ; 
from 2 to 4, to refresh after wearying toil ; from 3 to 4, 
to mount by means of ladders ; from 1 to 5, a club; from 
2 to 6, to regret ; from 4 to 8, part of the head ; from 3 to 
7, part of the head. 

Included Square: i. A weed. 2. To declare. 3. 
A kind of fever. 4. A pitcher. 

FLORENCE AND CELIA P. 
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. 

All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When these are rightly guessed and placed one 
below another, in the order here given, the central let- 
ters, reading downward, will spell the name of a famous 
locality. 

Cross-words : I. A name borne by many kings. 2. 
A confession of faith for public use. 3. Obscure. 4. 
To throw out forcibly and abundantly. 5. A plant from 
which is obtained a substance of great commercial value. 
6. To repel by expressing displeasure. 7. Officers in a 
merchant vessel ranking next below the captain. 8. A 
machine for raising and lowering heavy weights. 9. 
Containing sensible moisture. :o. The characteristic 
fluid of any vegetable or animal substance. 11. Two. 

s. H. K. 

CONCEALED DOUBLE ACROSTIC. 

The primals spell the message here; 
The finals bring us every year. 

CROSS-WORDS. 

1. The brightest joke, half understood, 
Is often not considered good. 

2. And if 't was cracked ere we were born, 
We say, " a chestnut " quite in scorn. 

3. Yet many an ancient jest and rhyme 
Are licensed till the end of time. 

4. And if a germ in every joke 
Infects with joy some solemn folk, 

5. Should one grow ill, I am quite sure 
He 'd rally with the "chestnut cure." 

6. For though a joke is weak and frail, 
A cobweb blown before the gale, 

7. 'T will make dyspepsia hide its head, 
And bundle ague out of bed. 

8. So laugh at jests worn out and old, 
Though all that glitters is not gold. 

ANNA M. PRATT. 



THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK. 




QUEEN MARIANA OF SPAIN. 

(ENGRAVED BY PETER AITKEN, FROM THE PAINTING BV VELASQUEZ.) 



ST. NICHOLAS. 



Vol. XXVI. 



JANUARY, 1899. 



No. 3. 



THREE LITTLE SPANISH PRINCESSES. 



By Isabel McDougall. 



One of them was a queen, and the other when they " make cheeses." These reverences 

two were princesses who afterward became were only in her father's honor, or for some 

queens. The youngest princess was the daugh- especially distinguished personage. Everybody 

ter of the first-mentioned queen, and the queen else was expected to pay them to her, and it 

herself was in her teens. The other princess was part of her education to receive all with 

was the queen's stepdaughter, and she was haughty condescension. Daughters of the no- 

about thirteen. In 1651, and for ten years blest families of Spain waited upon her. She 



afterward, all three lived in the gloomy "queen's 
quarters " of the Alcazar Palace at Madrid, 
when Philip IV. was King of Spain, and the 
great painter Velasquez was busy painting all 
the fine folk of the court. 



must not even take a glass of water from a 
servant's hand. The servant brought it to 
the nurse, and the nurse handed it to the maid, 
and the maid passed it to one of the young 
ladies-in-waiting, and the young lady-in-waiting 



The queen's quarters were decked with costly presented it to the infanta, who probably was 

tapestries, but had few windows, and those growing thirstier every minute, 
few were without glass. In these dark rooms There were almost no fairy-tales or story- 

the Infanta Maria Theresa, daughter of the king, books. Spanish princesses did not read much 

first lived alone, in such grandeur that it was in those days. There were no such things 

considered a favor to be allowed even to linger as jolly games, or even informal walks, or 

at her door. She was a bright-eyed, gentle spending the day at other girls' houses. Maria 



child, more like her mother, a lovely French 
princess, than like her cold, indifferent father. 
But her mother was dead, and her father cared 
only for her brother Balthazar, who was to be 
his heir. So Maria Theresa was rather neg- 
lected. She was taught to read and to write, 
and to answer all the long questions in her 
catechism very, very exactly, and to speak a 
little French. She learned to sink slowly, 
slowly down to the ground, and rise slowly, 
slowly up again, in deep curtsies that sent 
her brocade skirts ballooning out like children's 

Copyright 



Theresa's principal exercise was in those very 
dances and reverential bendings. Her prin- 
cipal entertainment was in the uncouth antics 
of court fools and dwarfs. Fools, or jesters, 
used to be kept at every court to make jokes, 
and the Spanish court kept more of them 
than any other — perhaps because it was the 
gravest. Dwarfs, idiots, and deformed persons 
were also brought there in large numbers. 
Many of them, according to their portraits, were 
hideous, and many looked ill-tempered and 
unhappy, which is hardly to be wondered at 

, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 
179 




THE INFANTA MARGARITA MARIA. A SPANISH PRINCESS OF TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
(ENGRAVED BY T. COLE, FROM THE ORIGINAL PAINTING BY VELASQUEZ, NOW IN THE LOUVRE, PARIS.) 



180 



THREE LITTLE SPANISH PRINCESSES. 



181 



in human beings treated like pet monkeys. It 
seems to us nowadays a strange taste that 
surrounded children of high rank with such 
unfortunate creatures. 

As a great treat, Maria Theresa was occasion- 
ally taken to a bull-fight, and taught that it was 
a merry spectacle to watch the men kill the 
bulls, or the bulls kill the horses, in a sandy 
arena, arranged something like our circus-rings, 
only much grander. She enjoyed wearing her 
best clothes, and sitting with the rest of the 
royal family in a gorgeously decorated box, 
hung with crimson curtains, surmounted by the 
Spanish shield, and guarded by soldiers in glit- 
tering armor. Perhaps she was there, one day, 
when King Philip told her brother to see if he 
could kill the bull with his own little gun. Don 
Balthazar brought down the animal at the first 
shot, and everybody cheered. No doubt the 
little sister clapped her hands, too, and thought 
enviously that boys had much the best of it in 
this world, as many a girl has thought since 
with far less reason. Don Balthazar,* as heir 
to the throne, had his separate palace, his 
ponies and dogs and guns. At fifteen years 
of age he was already betrothed to Mariana, a 
princess of Austria, who was thirteen; for royal 
personages were betrothed in early childhood. 

When Infanta Maria Theresa was ten they 
began talking about a husband for her. But 
here unexpectedly the little girl showed a will 
of her own. She said she wanted to marry her 
cousin, the young King of France. She had 
never seen him, except in a picture, but she 
had heard a great deal of him. Spain, which 
had been the most powerful of nations, was 
beginning to go downhill, and France was 
coming up. It was the most refined, the most 
splendid, and the wealthiest of nations. Its 
young king, Louis XIV., was said to be a per- 
fect fairy prince. No one else was so hand- 
some ; no one else had so bold a spirit, or such 
gracious manners, or wore such magnificent 
clothes with so grand an air. Maria Theresa 
thought he would just suit her. 

And then, quite suddenly, the Infante Don 

Balthazar died, and Maria Theresa became 

the heiress presumptive of the Spanish throne. 

Then there was no more talk of her marriage to 

* See "Three Boys in Armor," 



the King of France ; if she was to be the Queen 
of Spain she would have to stay at home. 
Then there came another sudden change. 
The king, her father, decided to marry again ; 
and whom should he take for a second wife 
but that very Mariana of Austria who had been 
intended for his son's bride. 

Mariana does not seem to have cared much 
whether her husband was a young prince of 
sixteen or a royal widower of forty. Probably 
she knew that her wishes had very little to do 
with such a matter of state as her marriage. 
Besides, she was rather a stupid little princess. 
When she crossed the Spanish frontier on her 
way to her new husband's capital, a deputation 
came out from one small town with a welcome 
and a present for her. The town was famous 
for the manufacture of silk stockings, so the 
worthy citizens brought out the very finest of 
their wares and begged her to accept them. 
Her silly old chamberlain considered this an 
ill chosen offering to make the young lady, and 
waved the citizens and their gift away, saying 
grandly : " Fools ! a Queen of Spain has no 
legs ! " Whereupon Mariana cried out in great 
alarm that she did not want to be Queen of 
Spain; she would not have her legs cut off; 
she would rather go back home ! 

There were now a thirteen-year-old queen and 
an eleven-year-old infanta living together like 
sisters in the great palace of Madrid. They 
both took part in the court dances, wherein the 
Infanta Maria Theresa generally outshone her 
young stepmother. Mariana was not really a 
pretty girl, but she had abundant fair hair, her 
eyes were blue, her skin white and rosy, all of 
which was much admired by the dark-complex- 
ioned Spaniards, and her gloomy husband en- 
joyed her childish gaiety. Her duenna had 
to rebuke her for laughing too uproariously at 
the court dwarf. " Then let this irresistible 
jester be removed," said Mariana. Once she 
showed her idea of humor by setting loose some 
white mice among her maids-of-honor, to see 
them scramble shrieking out of the way. 

It took a long time to make a dignified Span- 
ish queen of this simple German princess, but 
it was done at last. She sent a picture of her- 
self proudly home to Vienna, so that her friends 
in St. Nicholas for May, 1898. 



182 



THREE LITTLE SPANISH PRINCESSES. 



might see how she looked in the peculiarly ugly 
dress then worn by noble Spanish ladies. They 
wore huge oval hoops, flattened in front and 
behind, but standing out so far on the sides 
that they would hardly pass through the doors. 
The managers of theaters used to make ladies 
pay for two places. They plastered themselves 
over so thickly with powder and paint that one 
could hardly tell what the face underneath was 
like. Then it was the fashion to wear wigs of 
wool or silk, and these were frizzed to stand 
out on both sides of the face. In Queen Mari- 
ana's picture her wig is arranged in regular 
rows of ringlets, coming down about even with 
her chin ; each one is tied at the end with a 
funny red bow, and over the whole mass falls a 
long white feather. She was fifteen when this 
was painted, and the mother of a dear little 
daughter, the pet and pride of the whole court. 

Little Margarita came like a single ray of 
sunshine into Philip IV.'s last years of decline 
and disaster. A portrait of her that was sent 
to her aunt, the mother of the young French 
king, still hangs in the Louvre Palace at Paris, 
and is pleasing because of its sweet baby look 
and its quaint, old-fashioned dress. " L'Infante 
Marguerite " is marked in gold letters over the 
flower-like little face, with its large, serious blue 
eyes, and its frame of silvery fair hair. Her 
hair is tied on one side with a bow of ribbon, 
and her tiny gown of white silk is trimmed with 
black lace, and spread out over a hoop as large 
in proportion to its four-year-old wearer as that 
of a grown woman. 

Little Margarita was full of fascinating baby 
tricks, so that even the fastidious French am- 
bassador, De Gramont, wrote that she was a 
" little angel," and declared her to be " as 
sprightly and pretty as possible." 

She must have been a restless little mortal, 
for in the most famous picture of her half a 
dozen people seem to have been brought to- 
gether for the purpose of keeping her quiet, 
and even the king and queen themselves were 
present to use their royal authority over their 
rebellious pet. One may see their faces reflected 
in the mirror that hangs upon the wall, and 
we see the infanta's eyes looking out of the 
picture at them, instead of at the pretty maid-of- 
honor who is kneeling before her with a cup 



of water. The small princess is in the act of 
taking the cup, but she pays so little attention 
to it that she will surely spill it over her new 
frock. Another maid-of-honor makes a light 
curtsy with her hands spread out upon her 
large hoop. Then, there is a big dog lying on 
the floor, with two ugly dwarfs beside him ; 
there is the painter Velasquez himself, busy at 
his easel; and, further back, a lady, and two gen- 
tlemen in waiting, or guards. The room is a 
vast one, with dim pictures on the wall, and the 
mirror already mentioned. 

It all showed so exactly the way the idolized 
little princess looked in her every-day surround- 
ings that the king exclaimed delightedly : " There 
is but one thing lacking to this picture." And 
he took up the brush himself, and painted the 
red Cross of Santiago upon the breast of Velas- 
quez's portrait. You will see this bit of royal 
handiwork in the copy of this famous picture 
here reprinted from a former number of St. 
Nicholas. 

Very likely this was a poor enough bit of 
painting; but you may be sure Velasquez pre- 
ferred it to the whole of the canvas, for it 
was the badge of a noble order of knighthood, 
to which his sovereign thus gracefully admitted 
him with his own hand. 

Afterwards, Queen Mariana had two little 
sons. The Infanta Maria Theresa was no 
longer heiress to the throne, and there was no 
reason why she should not leave the country. 
De Gramont, the French ambassador, came 
seeking a wife for his young master, and Maria 
Theresa's childish wish came true. She was 
greatly pleased. She used to run away from 
her ladies-in-waiting to the room where hung 
the portrait of the handsome French king, and 
curtsy to it, saying with a laugh : 

" That is for my bridegroom ! " 

So the King of France, with a magnificent 
suite, journeyed down from Paris to the 
frontier of his kingdom; and the Spanish prin- 
cess, with a magnificent suite, journeyed up 
from Madrid to the frontier of hers ; and there, 
on an island in the Bidassoa, which is the 
boundary stream, they were very magnificently 
wedded. The bride's dresses filled twelve 
large trunks, covered with crimson velvet and 
mounted with silver ; twenty morocco trunks 




183 



1 84 



THREE LITTLE SPANISH PRINCESSES. 



contained her linen ; fifty mules were laden 
with her toilet plate and her perfumes. Besides 
all this, she took with her quantities of presents, 
among them two chests filled with purses, 
gloves, perfumes, and whisker-cases for her 
future brother-in-law, the Duke of Orleans. I 
cannot tell you exactly what " whisker-cases " 
were, except that they were made of leather, 
and that the dandies of the time went to bed 
with them on their mustaches. Perhaps they 
were something like curl-papers. 

Ah, well ! There is seldom anything pleas- 
ant to tell of the grown-up lives of little prin- 
cesses, even when their childhood has been 
happy. Poor Maria Theresa had never been 
educated into the good and intelligent woman 
that she might have made. At her hus- 
band's gay court she cut a poor figure. He 



was always polite to her, but cared nothing for 
her society, and found his amusements or at- 
tended to his business without any thought of 
her. Nobody was of less consequence in France 
than the lonely, neglected wife of the king. 

When she died, King Louis said, in his grand, 
selfish way, that this was the first trouble she 
had ever given him; and everybody thought it 
very kind of him to say so much. 

Queen Mariana was left a young widow with 
a sickly baby son. Until he grew up she ruled 
the kingdom for him; and she ruled it very 
badly, for she had developed into a peevish, 
obstinate, narrow-minded woman. 

As for the Infanta Margarita, sad to say, 
she lost her prettiness as she became older, 
and was married, as an ugly little girl of 
thirteen, to the Emperor Leopold of Austria. 




" don't move ! 



MARK TWAIN'S PETS. 



By Edwin Wildman. 




You 

might not 

suspect the great 

humorist " Mark 

Twain " of being 

fond of cats and dogs. Though it would seem 

that his mind must be thronged with queer 



'PILOT HOUSE. 



fancies and imaginary characters, always getting 
into laughable and difficult situations, Mark 
Twain yet has room for thoughts of friends 
belonging to the animal kingdom. He once 
owned four of the prettiest and daintiest mousers 
that ever basked in an atmosphere of fame. 

When Mark Twain lived at " Quarry Farm," 
a picturesque home high up on a southern New 
York mountain, overlooking many miles of land- 
scape, he did most of his writing in a little eight- 
sided summer house, which he called his " Pilot 
House," in memory of the days long ago when 
he was a pilot on the Mississippi River. That 
adventurous business he followed for ten years, 
until the outbreak of the Civil War, when, de- 
prived of his occupation and means of liveli- 
hood, as navigation was closed, he turned to 
account his talent for telling funny stories, and 




""IPH 



MARK TWAIN S COUNTRY HOUSE, " QUARRY FARM. 
l8 5 " 



i86 



MARK TWAIN S PETS. 



[Jan. 



as a newspaper reporter and humorist began 
the career that has led to fame and fortune. 

Those ten years and the following five were 
filled with incidents, and proved a rich storehouse 




HARK TWAIN S CATS, BEFORE THE DOG INTERFERED 



from which, in after days, he drew material that 
kept the world in merriment. It was very 
natural, then, that he should seek to surround 
himself with an environment that called up to 
his mind more vividly the early days in which 
occurred the thrilling events of which he wrote. 
From the great height of Quarry Farm, sitting 
in his Pilot House, Mark Twain could look out 
across a wide valley for miles and miles, and, 
perhaps, imagine himself again at the steering 
wheel, high on the hurricane-deck of a Mis- 
sissippi steamer. When Mark Twain took pos- 
session of the Pilot House as a study, he wrote 
of it to a friend : " It is the loveliest study you 



ever saw. It is octagonal, with a peaked roof, 
each face filled with a spacious window; and it 
sits perched in complete isolation on top of an 
elevation that commands leagues and leagues 

of valley and city 
and retreating 

ranges of distant 
blue hills. . . . And 
when the storms 
sweep down the 
remote valley, and 
the lightning flashes 
above the hills be- 
yond, and the rain 
beats upon the roof 
over my head — 
imagine the luxury 
of it!" 

Cozily nestling in 
a great chair or 
snuggled comfort- 
ably upon an old 
lounge in this liter- 
ary workshop, at 
almost any time of 
the day, could be 
found Mark Twain's 
pets. They were al- 
lowed there because 
they had the good 
manners to keep 
quiet while he 
worked. If they 
had presumed to 
jump upon the desk 
and put their little 
feet upon the manuscript or tip over the ink, 
they would not have been as welcome guests. 

The cozy little Pilot House was very popular 
with these cats. It may have been because 
it was such a nice, sunny place, having win- 
dows upon all of its sides. Being upon the 
very tip-top of the great hill, it received the 
warmth of the first and last rays of the sun, of 
which these pets were quite as fond as was the 
humorist himself. Mark Twain knew that al- 
though cats are said to have nine lives, the 
time must come when even his pets and he 
would have to part, so one day he summoned 
Mr. Van Aken, the photographer, to climb up 



MARK TWAIN S PETS. 



I8 7 






the winding road that runs from Elmira in the 
valley to Quarry Farm, to take pictures of the 
cats. Mr. Van Aken, who claims to be the " long- 
est man in the business " because he is the 
tallest, arrived, after a long trudge, at Quarry 
Farm. He found four lively, restless sitters, 
who had never known a harsh word, bowed to 
no mandate but their own untrammeled wills, 
and had always been rocked in the cradle of 
luxury. 

Now, how was he to pose those cats ? They 
had never been to a photograph gallery ; had 
never been rebuked for tardiness at meals ; had 
never been told to sit up straight, look pretty, 
and smile sweetly. 
It was a task at which 
even the " longest 
man in the business " 
stood aghast. Finally 
a happy idea occurred 
to their master. The 
cats were corralled by 
the alluring prospect 
of something to eat, 
and all bunched in 
their favorite chair, 
with the warm rays 
of the sun shining 
directly into their 
eyes. They blinked 
they winked, and 
finally, forgetting all 
but the coziness of 
their situation, went 
soundly to sleep. 

And another pet, a 
dog, came in. Jeal- 
ous of all those atten- 
tions to mere cats, he 
was fuming with im- 
patience outside the 
window, but no notice 
was taken of him, 
despite his whining 
and prancing. Mr. 
Van Aken took off" the cap of his camera, and 
everybody but the cats held their breath for an 
instant. 

" Better take another, to make sure," said 
Mark Twain, as the cats slept on. So the 



camera was prepared and another plate put in. 
But the dog could endure neglect no longer, 
and just as Mr. Van Aken reached for the 
cap, Mr. Dog jumped nearly up to the window 
and brought his paw down across the pane 
with an emphatic "Yap!" 

Well ! Like a flash, every head was up. But 
that flash was enough ; the cap was off, and 
the cats were caught — but in the camera only, 
for they gave a wild leap, scattered for dear 
life around the corners of the Pilot House, and 
vanished as if the earth had opened and swal- 
lowed them up. 

x\lthough docile and mild, those cats never 




J y->W "jf "wp ' ■w* 7 "- 



THE DOC TAPS ON THE WINDOW. 



took kindly to Mark Twain's dog. In vain 
did the master struggle to get an amnesty de- 
clared; the cats and the dog would never lie 
down in peace. Mark Twain reasoned with 
the cats and chastised the dog, but as long as 



i88 



MARK TWAIN S PETS. 



they lived the feud existed. It must have been 
some old quarrel handed down from genera- 
tion to generation, for even the subtle humorist 
was not able to fathom the cause of their dis- 
like to one another. 

And now comes the saddest part of the 



died, and their only memorial is a shaft of 
sunshine that comes, every cloudless day, 
into the little Pilot House at Quarry Farm, 
and crossing the room rests caressingly upon 
an old lounge where once the pet cats 
basked lazily in its comforting warmth. 

And here, then, is 
their obituary, short 
and unromantic, yet 
it will show that 
even Mark Twain's 
cats contributed to the 
diffusion of know- 
ledge, and that their 
little lives were not 
lived in vain: 

" Hartford, Conn. 
" I don't know as 
there is anything of 
continental or inter- 
national interest to 
communicate about 
those cats. They had 
no history. They did 
not distinguish them- 
selves in any way. 
They died early — on 
account of being over- 
weighted with their 
names, it was thought, 
— ' Sour Mash,' 'Apol- 
linaris,' 'Zoroaster,' 
' Blatherskite,' — names 
given them, not in an 

story — so sad, indeed, that the writer feels that unfriendly spirit, but merely to practise the 

he is incapable of doing the subject justice. 
The cats, in due time, lost all their lives. 

Of that misfortune let their master speak — the 

dog it was that lived ; but let not the blame be 

his, for perhaps he was innocent. But they 




MARK TWAIN AT WORK IN THE "PILOT HOUSE. 
(DRAWN FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY E. M. VAN AKEN.) 



children in large and difficult styles of pro- 
nunciation. 

"It was a very happy idea — I mean, for 
the children. 

" Mark Twain." 



THE PILLOW-FAIRIES. 



By Annie Willis McCullough. 



I 've just found out the queerest thing ! 

Sometimes, when I am good, 
And go to bed without a word 

When mama says I should, 
The fairies come there in the night, — 

They fly in with their wings, — 
And underneath my pillows white 

They leave a lot of things. 

One day it was a penny new, 

One day a dolly sweet, 
And once it was a picture-book, 

And once a cake to eat. 



They do not always come — oh, no ! 

They have too much to do. 
But when you are not thinking so, 

They bring a gift to you. 

And now it 's fun to go to bed ; 

Sometimes I lie and wait 
To catch the fairies flying in — 

They must come very late. 
I never seem to see them quite, 

Although I hear their wings ; 
But — just then it is morning light, 

And time to find my things. 




A HARMLESS EARTHQUAKE. 



By Helen A. Hawley. 



It was five minutes to twelve on the last 
night of the old year. One would suppose 
that at five minutes to twelve every small boy 
and every small girl would be in bed and, 
what is more, asleep hours ago. 

Here were Mr. Schmidt and Mrs. Schmidt, 
who were grown up, so that was well enough ; 
but here were nine little Schmidts, and they were 
all wide awake at this late hour. Peter Schmidt 
and Hans Schmidt were twins. There was 
Greta Schmidt, there was Louise Schmidt — 
but dear me ! it is too much to give all their 
names. Two pairs of twins make four, and five 
who were n't twins — four and five make nine 
little Schmidts. Add Papa and Mama Schmidt, 
and there were eleven in the family. 

Why were they all up and dressed at 
so late an hour ? To explain, they were just 
from Germany — not that very day, but only 
a few weeks from the " Faderland " ; and now 
they lived in a tenement-house in a great city. 
It was not one of the very, very poor tene- 
ments, but fairly comfortable. They had not 
learned new ways yet, but did everything as 
they had done it in the home land. 

It was funny to see them at five minutes to 
twelve on the last night of the old year. Papa 
Schmidt and Mama Schmidt and all the little 
Schmidts stood each one on a chair, each one 
bent over ready to spring, but with chin raised, 
and every eye on the clock. It seemed as if 
that minute-hand never would get over the 
last five minutes. When the clock struck 
twelve, they jumped to the floor all together, as 
hard as ever they could, and shouted, " Glilck- 
liches Neii Jahr! " as loud as ever they could. 
They called it "jumping into the New Year." 
It was what they used to do in Germany. 

Now, Papa Schmidt and Mama Schmidt were 
really heavy, and the little Schmidts were by 
no means thin. The tenement-house, though 
comfortable, was by no means new, and when 
they all came down hard it made things shake. 

Then something funny happened. 

In the next rooms another family lived. Not 
being German, but Irish, they had gone to bed 



in good season, and were fast asleep, ready to 
wake up and wish one another " Happy New 
Year " when the daylight came. In the mid- 
dle of the night the bed shook. Papa and 
Mama Dolan were wide awake in an instant. 

" I belave it 's an earthquake, shure ! The 
powers presarve us ! " said Mama Dolan. 

" Where 's thim matches, now ? " said Papa 
Dolan — as if he needed a light to see an earth- 
quake. Then little Pat Dolan set up a yell. 
He was lying pretty near the edge of his cot, 
and the jar of the "earthquake" had sent him 
bumping on the floor. 

" Bedad ! " said Papa Dolan, who had a 
light by this time, and was pulling on his 
trousers. " It 's thim haythenish Germans 
next door. Bad cess to the lot ! It 's mesilf 
will fix thim so they won't go disturbin' quiet 
folk ! " And out he went into the hall, Mama 
Dolan after him in her wrapper, and little Pat 
after her in his night-gown, crying noisily. 

" Hush up, will ye, youngster ! " said Papa 
Dolan, who was cross at the sudden wakening. 
He gave a thundering knock on the Schmidts' 
door, and marched in, scarcely waiting for any 
one to say " Come." 

" I '11 call the perlice. What yer rowin' for 
like — ?" But he could n't finish. His voice 
was drowned by a chorus of eleven voices, each 
shouting, " Gliickliches Neu Jahr ! " and each 
face beamed. At that little Pat yelled louder 
than ever, he was so frightened, and hid his 
face in his mama's gown. 

Mr. Schmidt could speak a little English, and 
he said : " I see. You not unterstand. Ve 
make — vat you call it? — Happy New Year. 
Ve joomp in the New Year. See ? " 

He climbed on the chair and jumped. And 
all the Schmidts climbed up and jumped, too. 

It was ludicrous, and it touched the Irish 
love of fun so that Mr. and Mrs. Dolan laughed 
till the tears came. Of course they could n't 
feel vexed any more; and Pat laughed because 
they did. 

" Shure, an' is that all ? " said Mr. Dolan. 
He looked at the group. "Well, 't is no won- 



190 



A HARMLESS EARTHQUAKE. 



I 9 I 



dher ye made the owld house trimble. Now, now, give us your hand. It won't bring on 
let 's shake hands. You 're good fellows, I another earthquake to shake hands." 




"'l BELAVE IT 'S AN EARTHQUAKE, SHURE ! THE POWERS PRESARVE US ! ' SAID MAMA DOLAN 



see, even to the bit baby, an' meant no harrum, So they shook hands all round, little and 
an' I '11 not call the perlice this time. Here big, and wished each other " Happy New Year," 



192 



A HARMLESS EARTHQUAKE. 



with the heartiest good-will, in English and And then Papa and Mama Schmidt, and the 
in German, and their curious mixture of both, four twins, and the five who were not twins, 




"THEY JUMPED TO THE FLOOR ALL TOGETHER, AMD SHOUTED, ' GLUCKLICHES NEU JAHK ! ' " 

Then Papa and Mama Dolan and little Pat went to bed also, for midnight was past and 
went back to their own rooms and to bed. the " Gliickliches Neu Jahr" had come. 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS: A CHRISTMAS LEGEND. 



By R. W. Raymond. 



'What can't be endured 
Must be cured." 

Revised Version. 




ISS Martha Lu- 

cretia Fris- 

bie Todd 

Was very rich 

and very odd. 

Her grandfather on 

her mother's side 

(I mean old Frisbie), 

when he died, 
Left her a wad of 
money ; and Todd, 
Her father, left 
her another 
wad; 
$y£J And thus the or- 
phan, by fa- 
voring fates, 
Became possessor of both estates, 
Each of them large enough for two 
Moderate people, like me and you. 
Here ends my first division, which 
Tells you briefly how she got rich. 

What made her odd ? That was begun 
When she was born, the only one 
To inherit the wealth from whales and cods 
Amassed by generations of Todds, 
And the Frisbie money, reported to come 
From cargoes of New England rum. 
In lonesome grandeur the earth she trod; 
One 's an odd number, so she was odd — 
Miss Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd! 



Proud of her aristocratic descent, 
With other children she never went. 
Relatives, even, she would not claim; 
For there was nobody of her name — 
Never a soul above the sod 
That was a genuine Frisbie Todd. 
Cousins, of course, to a large amount 
She had, — poor cousins, who did n't count. 
Vol. XXVI.— 25. 193 



There was an Uncle Frisbie, whose 

Business lay in mending shoes. 

He had taken his children, Jack and Hatty,. 

To the far West, — to Cincinnati, — 

And died, and nothing had ever come back 

In the way of news from Hatty and Jack, 

And there was a nearer cousinly brood 
She would not suffer to intrude 
Upon her elegant solitude ; 
The Raffertys, namely — the children many 
Of good-looking Patrick of Kilkenny, 
Who carried away in his mason's hod 
The heart of Aunt Matilda Todd; 
And having the heart, he 

took the rest 
With an hon- 
est hand 
toaloving 
breast. 
He was a hus- 
band kind 
and true; 





WITH OTHER CHILDREN SHE NEVER WENT. 



i 9 4 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



[Jan. 



They were happy and well-to-do ; 
And the little Raffertys were not few. 

Miss Lucretia used strong appellatives 
Concerning these plebeian relatives — 
Thought that, if gone, " they would n't be 

missed" ; 
Did n't believe they ought to exist. 




"she detected swindlers by their looks." 

And so she grew through many a year 
More lonely, selfish, proud, and queer, 
Till what she had and what she lacked 
Made some folks say she must be cracked. 

Not that she showed incompetence : 
She had no end of business sense; 
Commanded servants, kept her books, 
Detected swindlers by their looks, 
Bought cheap, sold dear, and got in trade 
The best of every bargain made. 
But never did she condescend 
To think, acknowledge, or pretend 
That any person was her friend. 
Their business over, all retired, 
With mingled anger and awe inspired 
By the superior farewell nod 
Of Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd. 

And she was pious — had a pew ; 
Paid for it promptly, sat in it, too — 
Filled it, in fact; for none would dare 
To introduce a stranger where 



Sat, like a pea in a roomy pod, 
Miss Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd ! 

Once a year the minister called, 
Timidly wiping his forehead bald, 
And coughing meekly, to intimate 
That the sufferings of the poor were great, 
And the church expenses were heavy indeed, 

And foreign missions were much in need. 
He did not have to utter a word, 
For she behaved as if she had heard, 
And handed him, ere he had begun, 
A check with a couple of naughts and a one ; 

Then he made haste to disappear, 
Not to return for another year, 
While she was conscious of treating God 
In the style becoming a Frisbie Tcdd ! 

Perhaps you will say : " Here is no fact 
To indicate that Miss Todd was cracked." 
Perhaps you will say : " The case is plain ; 
The woman was somewhat sour, but sane. 
If selfishness were loss of wit, 
Any one might be charged with it." 
But I venture to say that if you view 
A person selfish through and through, 
Within that person you will find 
Somewhere a crack in that person's mind. 




'ONCE A YEAR THE MINISTER CALLED. 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



195 



At all events, this happened 

to be- 
True of one person, as you 

will see. 




For she, shut up to pride 
and pelf, 
Had made a world unto herselt, 
And, since no kin nor friend was hers, 
Dwelt ever with her ancestors. 
Within her stately dining-hall 
Their portraits hung along the wall: 
Old Todd, whose weather-beaten front 
Told of the stormy ocean hunt; 
Old Frisbie, whose bright ruby nose 
Betrayed the beverage he chose; 
And Todds and Frisbies back of these, 



THE CAVALIER 



Having less certain pedigrees. 
Indeed,the truth must be confessed, 
The lady had picked up the rest 

At auction sales where heirlooms old 

To sympathetic heirs are sold ! 

Thus she had got a cavalier 

With plumed hat cocked above his ear — 

That was a Frisbie most antique 

Once settled on the Chesapeake. 

And near him hung a face sedate 

As of a councilor of state — 

'T was " Governor " Frisbie ; but of what 

He governor was, this tale saith not. 




AN EARLY TODD. 



LADY FRISBIE. 



GOVERNOR FRISBIE. 



196 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



[Jan. 



And there was one with bands and gown 

And folded palms and holy frown ; 

This soundly learned man of God 

Was said to be an early Todd. 

And here and there a woman's face 

Looked stiffly over frills of lace, 

With hands in jeweled rings arrayed 

Upon a satin stomach laid. 

'T was Lady Frisbie, true to life, 

Or Mistress Todd, the doctor's wife. 




MARTHA LUCRETIA FRISBIE TODD. 

Miss Martha's mother was not there : 
Poor thing ! she had had naught to spare 
Of time or money from her toil, 
To get her portrait done in oil ; 
For she had washed and darned and cooked 
While Father Todd harpooned and hooked ; 
Ere he had gathered his golden gain 
She was beyond all paint or pain; 
And as auctioneers don't furnish mothers, 
Her face was not among the others. 

But there was a picture of a girl 
Grimly gorgeous in starch and curl, 
With a poodle and pony and other pets, 



And most remarkable pantalets, 

And mits, and a riding-whip in her hand, 

And in the distance a castle grand; 

And this little girl with a riding-rod 

Was Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd. 

I might observe, with obvious ground, 
One could not see, as one looked around, 
The Rafferty who had carried the hod 
And married Aunt Matilda Todd, 
Or that most respectable Frisbie whose 
Life was devoted to cobbling shoes. 
Such folks Miss Martha could n't let in; 
They were as if they had never been ; 
While, on the other hand, to her 
A lot who never had been were. 
She believed in them all, and curtsied and 

bowed, 
She simpered, and spoke to them aloud, 
And seemed to hear, as well as to hark, 
When each one answered her remark. 
Indeed, to quote her footman John, 
" It was creepy an' crawly, 'ow she went on ! " 
But creepiest, crawliest, I must say, 
Was her performance on Christmas day ; 
For then, with all the pride that was in her, 
She gave her ancestors a dinner ! 
Silver and china and glass galore; 
Bunch of mistletoe over the door; 
Turkey as big as an albatross ; 
Sage and onions and cranberry sauce; 
Plenty of mince and pumpkin pie, 
With apples and walnuts by and by ; 
And, to indigestion antidotal, 
Something to drink not too teetotal. 
Yet nobody sat at the table broad 
But Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd ! 

There she sat in her splendor dressed, 
Bowing and smiling to each new guest, 
As, in her fancy, the sirs and dames 
Came one by one from their gilded frames 
To share the viands and taste the cup 
Of her who had bought and hung them up ; 
Graciously greeted each empty chair, 
Seeing a high-bred visitor there ; 
Heard and answered in fine content 
Many a courtly compliment ; 
Till at last, with a grave decorum, 
She rose and curtsied low before 'em, 



i8 99 .] 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



197 



And sailed away, in the style of hostesses, 
Leading a train of lady ghostesses, 
And leaving the gentlemen ghosts to sip 
Bubbling cider and steaming flip ! 

How they did it I cannot 

say; 
Certainly, nothing was left 

next day — 
All of the victual and 

drink was gone. 
Perhaps the maids, and 

that footman John 
Could have told us how 
it was done ! 




Patrick Rafferty of the 
hod 

And she that was Matilda 
Todd 

At this period of my story 

Long ago had gone to 
glory, 

Leaving behind a numer- 
footman john. ous race — 

The brightest youngsters in all the place; 
And these, by virtue of native gift 
And cheery temper and sober thrift, 
Had prospered quite beyond the stage 
Of anybody's patronage. 
They cared not for the manners odd 
Of Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd ; 
They pitied her who could not be 
A fortunate Todd- Rafferty. 
They wrote not letters by the dozen 
To flatter their beloved cousin, 
Nor ever o'er her threshold slid 
To ask her sweetly how she did; 
They were not even waiting till 
They could contest Miss Martha's will. 
Only on Christmas day, of course, 
The Raffertys turned out in force, 
Marched through the unfrequented door, 
Drew up in line along the floor, 
Presenting thus a smiling squad 
To Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd, 
And solemnly, yet lightly too, 
Remarked in chorus : 

" Here 's to you ! 
The Raffertys would be delighted 
If you would kindly feel invited 



To come along with them and see 
A real old Rafferty Christmas spree ! " 

Then, waiting not for more reply 
Than mutely gave her stony eye, 
The Raffertys would homeward plod 
From Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd. 

"Sure, it 's no use," they laughing said; 

" She 's got an^wtors in her head. 
But blood is blood; 't was but polite 
Our own relation to invite. 
Faith, conversation must be small 
With all those people on the wall, 
And human patience it must tax, 
Carving turkey for canvasbacks! 
Poor lonesome creature, doomed to be 
A Todd without the Rafferty ! " 

So year by year the thing went on. 
It sadly worrited footman John 
That the Raffertys were so sat upon ; 
Those fine young people had not merited 
To be disowned and disinherited. 
If they could only break the spell, 
Bring their cousin to know them well, 
Make the old place ring with jokes 
And swarm with regular human folks, 
Put in the gar- 
ret that 
painted 
throng, — 
The garret, 
where such 
things be- 
long,— 
And stop these 
creepy 
goings- 
on — 
" I '11 try it," 
one day 
said foot- 



man John! 




'SHE ROSE AND CURTSIED LOW 
BEFORE "EM." 



That very day a hint he spake 
The Raffertys were quick to take. 
" Sure," they remarked, with sparkling eyes, 
" 'T will give our cousin a grand surprise ; 
And her ghostly dinner — it shall be 
A real old Rafferty Christmas spree ! " 



198 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



[Jan. 



Christmas was then not far away, 
And the time grew shorter every day; 
But what the Raffertys took in hand 
Was bound to " go," you will understand. 
Besides, they could always rely upon 
The help of the maids and the footman John. 
In secret visits to the hall 
They studied the pictures, one and all; 



The rest had departed, every one of 'em, 
Every mother's daughter and son of 'em 
(It was very cleverly done of 'em!), 
Leaving alone with her ribbons and rod 
Little Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd ! 
And the grown-up Martha, down below, 
Felt her senses beginning to go; 
For it 's two very different things, you know, 




'OLD FATHER TODD, WITH HUSKY CHEER, CALLED, 'WHY ARE NOT THE RAFFERTYS HERE.' 



Of every picture they dressed with art 
A Rafferty for a counterpart; 
And when the festival hour was come, 
John smuggled them into an anteroom, 
Where giggling they waited the sign agreed, 
On which the procession should proceed. 
John, meanwhile, in his thoughtful way, 
Had altered the scene to suit the play. 

• Feather-headed and satin-shod, 
Came Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd. 
She entered the glittering banquet-hall, 
And smiled politely along the wall ; 
But it froze her greeting upon her tongue 
To note that each frame empty hung ! — 
Excepting only the maiden young, 
Who primly presented her posies and pets, 
Her pony and poodle and pantalets. 



To dream a dream and to find it 's so ! 
It gives you a shock that you had n't 

conceived 
To see what you made-believe you believed ! 
And the shock to this credulous female 

skeptic 
Rendered her almost cataleptic. 
She was near to leaving her earthly frame, 
When the door flew open, and in they came ! 

Every one went straight to his place; 
She sank in hers; and who said grace 
But the Reverend Dr. Ichabod 
Whom she had purchased and surnamed 
Todd! 

After that the fun began, 
And soon so fast and furious ran, 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



I 99 



The hostess hung her frightened head, 
Wishing her ancestors were dead! 

Old Father Todd, with husky cheer, 
Called, " Why are not the Raffertys here ? " 
And the governor and the cavalier 
Pounded the table and cried, " Hear ! hear ! " 
And Father Frisbie, whose nasal red 
Over his great round face had spread, 
Pounded likewise, and said, " Well said ! " 
And yet more terrible was the din 
When all the ladies came chattering in 
With, "Pray, what could you be thinking about 
To leave those charming Raffertys out ? " 

Then each began most boisterously 
To praise some particular Rafferty. 
The governor vowed that he 

liked Jim — 
There was something dignified 

in him; 
The cavalier said fair Kathleen 
Much resembled the Maiden 

Queen ; 
Old Frisbie bawled out Peggy's 

praise — 
She made him think of his 

younger days; 
And Father Todd exclaimed: 

" Egad ! 
Give me young Patrick ; he 's 

the lad ! " 
Whereat the ladies all began 
Each to extol some favorite 

man: 
Terence and James and Mike 

and Pat 
Were praised for this and 

praised for that, 
Till Dr. Ichabod, waxing 

hot, 
Thundered : " You 're all a 

precious lot; 
But the first and foremost o' 

the men is 
That fine young fellow whose 

name is Dennis ! " 



And in a chorus loud and clear 
Repeated thrice : " Why — are n't — they — 
here ? " 

Poor Martha ! 'T was too much for her. 
Good heavens ! " she cried, " I wish they 

were ! 
I wish you all were safely dead, 
And the Raffertys were here instead ! " 

More she had uttered, I make no doubt, 
But here her failing strength gave out, 
And to the floor, a senseless clod, 
Fell Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd. 

'T was but a temporary fit ; 
But e'er she had come out of it 




"she was too happy to object." 



Then the whole crowd, with one accord, Swift hands had wrought a mighty change 
Faced about to the head of the board, Within her wondering vision's range; 



200 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



Jan. 



For when she lifted up her face, 
Lo ! every picture was in place, 
And round the table, to her surprise, 
The Raffertys sat, without disguise ! 
Jim occupied the governor's chair 
With quite a gubernatorial air; 
Michael's features did still disclose 




" THE POOR REMEMBERED HER JOYFULLY, 

Some of the hue of old Frisbie's nose; 
Pat was the image of Father Todd, 
And Dennis of Dr. Ichabod, 
While elegant Terence, it was clear, 
Ought to have been a cavalier ; 
And Polly and Peggy and Kathleen 
Were scattered about, the boys between. 
Their hair still stood in the high old style 
(They could n't take that down in a 
minute!); 



But they had put on the Rafferty smile, 
With never a bit of stiffness in it — 
The Rafferty smile, that did comprise 
The pearly teeth and the starry eyes, 
And gave a truly bewitching air 
Even to towers of powdered hair, 
As if some tricksy, laughing fay 

Peeped from 
under a 
castle gray. 

Then into a 
great melo- 
dious shout 

The rollicking 
Raffertys 
broke out : 
" Dear cousin,'' 
they cried, 
" it was so 
polite 

Us to your 
dinner to 
invite ; 

And we feel 
specially at 
home 

Because you 
wished that 
we would 
come. 

You made that 
very plain, 
you know, 

When you told 
the others 
to go ! 

No matter if 
to- morrow 
find 
You altered to your former mind, 
We '11 let this one occasion be 
A real Todd-Rafferty Christmas spree ! '* 

So said, so done. The dame obeyed, 
Too paralyzed to feel afraid, 
Too numb to scorn, too dazed to scoff, 
Till presently the chill wore off 
In something she did not expect — 
She was too happy to object! 



I899-] 



THE RAID OF THE RAFFERTYS. 



20I 



Oh, that was a feast of fire and fun, 
If there ever on earth was one ! 
Loving mockery, kindly wit, 
And Martha right in the midst of it, 
More and more to herself confessing 
How her hard pride was deliquescing, 
More and more to her guests betraying 
All that she to herself was saying. 

Have you never under a shower-bath 
stood, 
Gasping and chuckling and feeling good, 
When, after the first sensation numb, 
The glorious prickles begin to come, 
And every nerve from crown to toe 
Leaps and tingles and sings, " Ho, ho " ? 
In that selfsame way at this period 
Felt Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd! 
Gone was her spirit's icy crust 
Of dim delusion and dumb distrust, 
And speak she did, for speak she must, 
While the Rafferty cousins, wondering, saw 
How spring, resistless, follows a thaw. 
" I have lived," she said, " in a dream apart. 
You have opened my eyes and waked my 

heart ; 
And I gladly exchange the past so drear 
For the Christmas present you bring me 

here ! " 

She never returned to her lonesome ways. 
All of her days were Christmas days, 



And the rest of her life turned out to be 
A long Todd-Rafferty Christmas spree ! 
Footman John said : " It were prime 
To see her a-makin' up lost time ! " 
All the neighbors shared in the fun ; 
She was a neighbor to every one. 
The poor remembered her joyfully, 
And so did the heathen over the sea 
(Though perhaps they did n't know it was 

she!). 
The minister used to call and stay, 
Instead of piously running away ; 
He got not only a check, but a chat, 
Yet the check was all the bigger for that ; 
And it was really a thing to view, 
How many people sat in her pew ! 

But the Raffertys were her delight ; 
She could n't bear them out of her sight. 
They put her up to adventures new, 
And whatever she did they helped her do. 

Many a year she among them moved, 
Blessing and blessed, and loving and loved. 
When she was gone, a grand conclave 
Met in the graveyard around her grave, 
Pondering long what flower were best 
To mark with beauty her place of rest. 
They wanted something appropriate — 
Something lovely that blossomed late ; 
So the Raffertys planted a goldenrod 
Over Martha Lucretia Frisbie Todd. 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



By E. H. House. 



[ This story was begun in the November number. ] 

Chapter V. 

THE ANTIQUITY OF PUNS AND REPARTEES. 

The museum, as Uncle Claxton called it, 
consisted of a series of large rooms in which 
were gathered great numbers of curious and 
valuable objects, mostly collected by their 
owner during his travels in various parts of 
Vol. XXVL— 26. 



the world. Uncle Claxton used to say he had 
no time to put his treasures in order, but for 
this very reason the children found them all 
the more attractive. They never knew what 
marvels they might light upon as they wan- 
dered here and there. 

Following the instruction of the previous 
Friday, the young guests amused themselves, 
in this delightful resort until their uncle joined 
them, a little before the dinner-hour. 



202 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Jan. 



"Have you discovered anything new? " he 
asked, as they ran to greet him. 

"There are always new things," answered 
Amy, speaking first, — " new and beautiful. But 
I am just as fond of the old ones." 

" Are you, my dear? It is good to stand 
by tried friends. And which of those old ones 
do you like best? " 

Amy looked around, but made no reply. 

"Oh, Amy," cried Harry, "why don't you 
tell?" 

" You think it is easy, Master Harry? Well, 
then, tell us your first choice." 

But, somewhat to his own surprise, Harry 
was as much at a loss as his sister ; and so, it 
proved on inquiry, were Percy and Louise. 
Little Dick, however, was troubled by no 
doubt. When asked to name his favorite 
object in the museum, he answered promptly : 

"You, uncle." 

" Bless me, Childe Richard! — I never should 
have suspected you of being a courtier." 

"Did you say he had caught you, uncle?" 
asked Percy. 

" My flighty nephew, this is the second pun 
you have made lately, and both as bad as could 
be. Are you going to let it grow into a habit? " 

" Puns are disreputable," remarked Amy. 
" Somebody said that a man who would make 
a pun would pick a pocket." 

" Oh, Dr. Samuel Johnson, of course," re- 
plied Percy. " He was too stiff and pompous 
for puns or jokes of any sort." 

" That is a mistake, Percy," corrected Uncle 
Claxton. " I know the remark is often cred- 
ited to Dr. Johnson, but it was an older and 
less celebrated writer, John Dennis by name, 
who said something of the kind. He did not, 
however, condemn all puns. Only a particu- 
lar kind irritated him. As to Johnson, he had 
his merry moments. He could even make 
comic verses — though very few people seem 
to be aware of the fact. You will read and 
laugh at them one of these days. Oh, no ; the 
burly doctor was not always sitting in state. I 
dare say he would not strongly have objected 
to a pun, if it had been one of his own manu- 
facture." 

" So much the better for him," Percy an- 
nounced. "Do you call puns disreputable? " 



" Amy was joking, you know. Puns may 
be permitted when they are very good indeed 
—good enough to be really witty; not other- 
wise. It is true they have the sanction of 
great antiquity to support them." 

" Do you mean it, uncle? " 

" Certainly. Does not the oldest of poets, 
Homer, make his hero Ulysses escape a terrible 
danger by aid of a pun? When captured by 
Polyphemus, the huge king of the Cyclops, 
Ulysses said his name was ' Noman.' After- 
ward, in a struggle for life, he put out the 
giant's single eye, and the sufferer, helpless in 
his blindness, called upon his subjects to inflict 
vengeance. When asked who was the guilty 
one, Polyphemus shouted that Noman had 
wounded him, and Noman should be slain. 
The other Cyclops took him at his word, and 
punished no man; and presently Ulysses, who 
had kept himself in hiding, got safely away. 
There were plenty of clever men among the 
ancients who made puns whenever they saw 
a chance. Demosthenes, the great Grecian 
orator, was not above them ; and no Roman 
scholar was more distinguished than Cicero, 
who delighted in this kind of pleasantry." 

"Cicero again!" exclaimed Harry. "He 
must have been a man worth knowing. Were 
his puns good, uncle? " 

" They had that reputation. When he was 
in his prime it was the fashion to credit him 
with almost every joke in circulation. But 
this did not quite please him. While he was 
on a military expedition in Asia, he wrote 
home to a friend, complaining that all sorts of 
wretched puns were passed off in his name, 
because he was absent and could not defend 
himself. He laughingly told his correspon- 
dent that he was not ashamed of his own 
'salt-works,' — salt being a byword, both in 
Greece and Rome, for wit, — but refused to be 
accountable for the poor stuff turned out by 
inferior manufacturers. Julius Caesar thought 
so highly of Cicero's smart sayings that he 
made a large collection of them. Of course 
they lose a good deal in translation, and wit- 
ticisms that have to be explained never seem 
to amount to much. However, you shall hear 
one or two. There was a senator who hated 
to be reminded that his father had been a 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



203 



cook. Cicero pretended to compliment him 
on his knowledge of law, but used words that 
had a double significance, and sounded as if 
he was praising a cook for his gravy. An- 
other senator was equally ashamed of being 
the son of a tailor. Cicero congratulated him 
on his sharpness in a point of argument, and 
said, ' You have touched the thing with a 
needle.' I am happy to say that he could rise 
above puns, when he saw an opportunity, and 
his sharp thrusts of raillery were as much 
dreaded as his powerful oratory. When the 
rich Crassus was close upon sixty years old, he 
remarked in a public speech that none of his 
family had ever passed that age. Cicero de- 
clared that the statement was made to gain 
popularity, because nothing could please the 
citizens more than to hear from Crassus him- 
self that he was near his end. 

" An opposing advocate wound up an argu- 
ment by stating that his client had urged him 
to conduct the case with industry, eloquence, 
and fidelity. ' Then how could you,' demanded 
Cicero, ' have the heart to disregard every one 
of his requests ? ' Sometimes the satirist's re- 
torts were rather brutal. One day, when Cicero 
was making a speech, Octavius kept interrupt- 
ing, complaining that he could not hear. At 
last Cicero lost patience. ' That is strange,' he 
exclaimed, ' for surely you have holes in your 
ears!' — meaning that his ears were bored like 
those of all African barbarians and slaves. 
No doubt these things went off with a snap 
as they were spoken, but they do not sound 
very brilliant when interpreted. It seems 
about as hard for me to pick out good speci- 
mens as it is for all of you to decide what 
pleases you most in my museum." 

" Not for me, uncle," objected young Dicky. 
" I did n't find it hard." 

"Ah, you rogue; you are bound to say a 
good word for your benevolent uncle, who 
gives you fish-dinners and apple-dumplings." 

" Don't say that, dear uncle," the eldest 
nephew protested. "Truly, we are glad to 
get the nice things, but you know how much 
more we care for our uncle per se." 

" There it goes again," said Uncle Claxton ; 
" the third time within a week! And he is not 
satisfied with putting his own language to tor- 



ture, but must abuse the fine old Latin as 
well. You ought to know, my lad, that puns 
on people's names are considered the least 
excusable of any." 

"Why, uncle, you made one yourself, the 
other day, on Mark Twain's name." 

" That is true, more shame to me. And so 
you think you are safe in making a pun on 
mine? Well, we shall have to fall back on 
Cicero once more. Cicero's own name, I 
may tell you, grew out of a play upon a 
word. It was fastened upon one of his an- 
cestors because he was marked by a dent in 
the nose resembling the nick in a tool called 
a cicer. His famous descendant was urged, 
when he became powerful, to take a less 
vulgar name ; but he replied that, vulgar 
though it might be, he would try to make it as 
renowned as any in Roman history. I think 
that answer was worth a hundred cheap jokes ; 
and if I were you, Percy, I would take Cicero 
as a model for better things than punning." 

" I won't do it again while I am here, uncle, 
if I can help it. I suppose even Cicero some- 
times made jokes without stopping to think." 

" I believe you are right, Percy. When he 
took time for reflection, he saw how many 
enemies he had needlessly made. He was 
really the soul of kindliness and generosity, 
but he could not control his quick tongue, and 
if anything touched his sense of the ridiculous, 
he did not know how to keep it to himself. 
There was less malice in his mischief than 
people thought. He would make as much fun 
of members of his own family as if they were 
strangers. His daughter, whom he loved with 
all his heart, was married to a man named 
Dolabella — rather a worthless creature, who 
happened to. be very short of stature and in- 
significant in appearance. One day, when 
Dolabella came to Cicero's house in full sol- 
dier's dress, his father-in-law made him exces- 
sively unhappy by inquiring who it was that 
had tied him so nicely to a sword ! In private 
or in public, it was always the same with 
Cicero. The younger Cato did not hesitate 
to rebuke him, in the senate, for his levity, 
though Cato himself, like all his family, had a 
knack of smartness, and was rather proud of 
the inherited gift. They were all in the stiff 



204 



5RIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Jan. 




THE CYCLOPS ENTERING THE CAVE IN WHICH HE HAS IMTRISONED ULYSSES AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



and labored Greek style, such as was taught in 
ancient Sparta. Yes, Percy ; I am bound to 
tell you that the Spartan boys were drilled to 
repartee as a branch of their education, and 
had to pass examinations in ready wit. The 
practice was more or less followed all over the 
country, and the Grecian records are filled 
with specimens of keen, pithy word-play, often 
very effective, but generally too formal and 
stilted to touch our merry senses. Humor is 
a natural gift, and I doubt if any amount of 
training could produce it. Certainly you will 
not find much of it in the school of Lycurgus." 

" Cicero will do for me, uncle," said Percy ; 
"and I will keep clear of the puns." 

" Brave boy! And now we have something 
more substantial than verbal flights of fancy 
to discuss. Dinner is ready. After it is over, 
you can return and settle the question of what 
object you like best in my collections." 



Chapter VI. 

STATUES WORTH THEIR WEIGHT IN GOLD. 

Uncle Claxton's last suggestion lingered 
in Percy Carey's mind, and during dinner he 
brought the subject forward again. 

" We have all confessed, uncle," he said, 
" that we could not decide what we thought 
the most of in your museum. Why can't you 
give us a hint, and tell us, really and truly, 
what is your own first choice ? " 

" Really and truly I have n't the slightest 
idea," his uncle replied. 

" I don't wonder," said Amy. " When you 
asked me, I thought I should need a month to 
make up my mind." 

"That is not so certain, either, Amy. If 
you were called upon in a great hurry, you 
might be all the more ready. Alexander the 
Great showed his friends that he could come 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



205 



to a decision quickly enough, and Praxiteles 
was even more sudden in speaking his mind. 
Would you like to hear about them? " 

"You know we would like to hear anything 
you will tell us," Amy answered. 

"Very good. I '11 tell you first, then, about 
Alexander the Great. After that irresistible 
warrior had conquered Persia, he discovered 
among certain 
treasures of 
Darius, the de- 
feated king,the 
most magnifi- 
cent casket he 
had ever seen 
— a marvelous 
piece of work- 
manship, made 
of gold and 
covered with 
precious gems. 
Darius had 
filled it with 
his ointments, 
but Alexander 
said he had no 
time to think 
of pomatum 
and perfumes, 
•and would put 
it to a better 
use. He asked 
his followers 
what was most 
worthy to be 
kept in such a 
box, but with- 
out paying at- 
tention to their 
opinions, de- 
clared that his 
copy of Ho- 
mer's ' Iliad ' 
was the only 
suitable object. 
This manuscript had heen revised expressly for 
him by Aristotle and other learned men. He 
used to sleep with it under his pillow, until he 
found this fitter resting-place for it. That 
was a fine tribute to literature from a soldier." 



" The ' Iliad ' is a soldier's book, is it not? " 
said Amy. 

" It is full of fighting," her uncle answered, 
" and Alexander himself called it a ' portable 
treasury of military knowledge.' " 

" Do you agree with him about the ' Iliad,' 
uncle? " inquired Amy. 

"Ah! many books have been written, and 




'SHE KAN INTO THE HOUSE, TELLING PRAXITELES THAT A FIRE WAS RAGING NEAR BY. 



many authors have lived, since that time. We 
don't know what Alexander might say if he 
were alive to-day." 

" But," persisted Amy, "if you had a casket 
like his, what would you put in it? Or, if you 



206 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Jan. 



had to give up every author but one, which 
would you keep? " 

" Why, there is another very old question. 
You can't imagine how often it has been 
asked, and what various answers have been 
given. Many learned men are of the same mind 
as Theodorus Gaza, a classical scholar of the 
Middle Ages, who wrote that if the world's 
stock of literature were to be destroyed, ex- 
cepting only the works of one man, those of 
Plutarch, the Greek biographer, had the best 
claim to be preserved. Theodorus probably 
spoke with a view to the instruction of man- 
kind. An eminent Englishman of our day, 
thinking of what would afford the greatest 
amount of wholesome entertainment, fixed 
upon the productions of Walter Scott. For 
my part, Amy dear, I don't feel equal to such 
problems. You had better hear how Praxit- 
eles was forced, against his will, and by an 
ingenious trick, to point out his favorite work 
of art at the shortest possible notice. Do any 
of you know who Praxiteles was? " 

" I know a little about him," answered 
Amy, with some hesitation. " I read it in 
Hawthorne's story ' The Marble Faun.' " 

" That 's Amy's way of learning things," 
laughed Harry. 

"And what is your way, my boy?" de- 
manded Uncle Claxton. " No matter how 
she learned it, Amy knows a little, as she says, 
while you are wholly in the dark. As to 
Praxiteles, he was a celebrated sculptor of 
ancient Greece, and his works were all con- 
sidered so fine that no one could positively say 
which was the most beautiful. Many times he 
was urged to give his own judgment, but he 
always refused. His friends tried to make him 
avow his preference ; but he seemed to feel as 
if his statues were living beings, and that if he 
acknowledged a particular liking for one, it 
would be acting unkindly toward the others. 
So he was constantly on his guard, and con- 
cealed his opinion completely, until a certain 
rich woman of Athens set her bright wits to 
work against him. She ran into his house, one 
day, pretending to be in a great fright, and 
told him that a fire was raging near by, which 
threatened to destroy the rooms in which he 
kept his most cherished possessions. Prax- 



iteles flew at once to the studio, calling his 
servants to help him save a statue of Cupid, 
and paying no heed to his other treasures. 
That was enough for the ingenious plotter. She 
confessed the trick, and Praxiteles was obliged 
to admit that she had discovered the truth. The 
Cupid was indeed his masterpiece." 

" Was he very angry? " asked Amy. 

"Apparently not at all. He even offered 
the statue as a free gift to the author of the ruse, 
in reward of her cleverness, and so made her 
the most envied woman in Athens. To possess 
one of that great artist's works was an honor 
kings and emperors contended for. When the 
city of Cnidus, in Asia Minor, was burdened 
with a tremendous debt, the King of Bithynia 
offered to pay the whole amount if the citizens 
would let him take away a statue of Venus 
by Praxiteles ; but they would not listen to 
the proposal. The Cupid was especially 
coveted by powerful rulers. In later years it 
was owned by Roman emperors, and was 
always looked upon as worth more than its 
weight in gold, though Parian marble is a 
heavy substance." 

" Who has it now, uncle? " asked Percy. 

" It disappeared centuries ago. The owner 
gave it to the city of Thespia, of which 
she was a native, and it remained there until 
bought by Caius Caesar, and carried to Rome, 
where the Emperor Claudius afterward ob- 
tained it. The Thespians mourned the loss 
of their beautiful statue so grievously that 
Claudius, who was anything but soft-hearted 
as a rule, restored it to them ; but his successor, 
Nero, was not so generous, and by his order it 
was brought back to the imperial palace. We 
have no record of it since that time. Perhaps 
it is now lying hidden beneath the ruins of 
Rome." 

" A good find for somebody," said Harry. 
" Do you suppose it will ever turn up? " 

" It is very possible," his uncle replied. 
" Several of the finest ancient sculptures have 
been discovered by pure accident, in com- 
paratively recent times. The famous Apollo 
Belvedere, now in the Vatican, was brought to 
light only about four hundred years ago, at 
Antium, where many art treasures of the 
Roman rulers were once stored. The group 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



207 



of the Laocoon was dug from the ruins of the 
baths of the Emperor Titus, and the stately 
Venus of Milo, or Melos, lay hidden and for- 
gotten for centuries, in an island of the Medi- 
terranean, before it was found by a lucky 
chance. Undoubtedly there are plenty more 
of equal value under Italian and Grecian 
ground, if people only knew where to look." 

" And did these works really bring their 
weight in gold? " asked Harry again. 

" Some of their kind certainly did. The 
Venus of Milo, now in the Louvre, in Paris, is 
a colossal marble image ; yet I do not believe 
that France would part with it for twice its 
weight in gold. Such possessions are too 
precious to be sold." 

" Then," said Percy, " we cannot expect to 
see any of them in America." 

"It is not likely," Uncle Claxton replied. 
" Their owners would not willingly give them 
up, and I hope we shall never have occasion 
to demand them as spoils of war. Napoleon 
did that on a very extensive scale, and filled 
the galleries of Paris with statues and paintings 
plundered from the countries which he con- 
quered. Most of Napoleon's artistic captures 
remain in Paris, where you will all enjoy them 
some day." 

"Those Grecians would have been very 
proud, I should think," said Amy, "if they 
could have known what honors were to be 
paid them after two thousand years." 

" They were pretty well satisfied with them- 
selves as it was, my dear. A more vain- 
glorious set of men than the Athenian ' old 
masters ' never existed. They gave themselves 
the airs of sovereigns, not to say demigods. 
Among the haughtiest of them was Phidias, 
who was thought by many to be the greatest 
of all sculptors. He lived a century before 
Praxiteles, and was selected by Pericles, the 
ruler of Athens, to adorn the Parthenon— that 



beautiful temple which is still partly standing, 
though its artistic decorations have been lost 
or carried to other countries. Some of the 
friezes carved by Phidias are now in the British 
Museum. The glory of the Parthenon was his 
gigantic image of the goddess Minerva, nearly 
forty feet high, and made of ivory overlaid 
with gold. He gave so much offense by his 
arrogance that his enemies were always watch- 
ing for a chance to do him harm. At one 
time they accused him of stealing some of the 
gold from the statue ; but the gold plates were 
taken off and weighed, and his innocence thus 
proved. Then it was discovered that two of 
the figures he had placed upon Minerva's 
shield were likenesses of himself and Pericles ; 
and a cry of impiety was raised against him, 
in consequence of which he was banished 
from the city. He took his revenge in a cu- 
rious way. The Minerva had been univer- 
sally considered his noblest work ; but now 
he proclaimed that he would surpass it for 
the benefit of the people of Elis, another 
Grecian town, in which he had sought refuge. 
The Athenians declared that this was impos- 
sible ; but a little while later, when he set up 
his colossal Jupiter, they were compelled to 
acknowledge that their goddess was eclipsed. 
The citizens of Elis adopted Phidias with 
acclamations, and decreed perpetual honors to 
his family. His loss was deeply lamented by 
Pericles, whose ambition it was that Athens 
should lead the world in cultivation and refine- 
ment, and who delighted to surround himself 
with eminent scholars and artists of all kinds 
— musicians and painters, as well as sculptors." 

" Then the Grecian painters were also 
great," said Amy. 

" We are bound to believe that they were. 
I will tell you something about them, if you 
like ; but it can be only a little, for reasons 
that will be evident before I have gone far." 



{To be continued.) 





AV^rgaret Johnson. 



N the cozy depths 
of an arm-chair 
thrown, 
On New Year's 
eve, I mused 
alone. 
; ' Welladay ! " thought I, 
" and deary me ! 
This world is a fairly 
good world, I own. 
But how much better indeed 't would be 
If, putting aside his natural pride, 
Each living thing in the world so wide 
Would honestly try his simple best 
To be obliging to all the rest ! 
With a little more kindness and sweet civility, 
Courtesy, patience, and amiability — 
Ah, welladay, and deary me, 
What a highly agreeable world 't would be ! " 

Then softly faded the firelight's gleam, 
And I fell asleep, — or so it would seem, — 
And dreamed this very remarkable dream : 

I stood, methought, in the same old world, 
With the same old ocean round it curled ; 



But a singular state of things I found, 
As I rubbed my eyes and looked around. 
Each man and woman, each chick and child, 
Wherever I met them, bowed and smiled, 
And answered my questions before they were 

asked, 
And with my errands their memories tasked \ 
And each, I saw, with an equal zest, 
Was doing the same for all the rest ! 
Such consideration and thoughtful zeal, 
Such delicate tact ! — I could but feel, 
From the President, bland on his lofty seat, 
To the dear little cricket that chirped at my 

feet, 
There was not a thing in that land so fair 
But lived to oblige. 

With the tenderest care, 
The ragman muffled his bells, for fear 
They might awaken some sleeper near. 
And the newsboys called the "Times" and 

" Post " 
In tones like a cooing dove's — almost. 
The plumber offered the pipes to mend, 
" Just as a favor, to please a friend." 
The lawyer begged that his little bill, 
Unpaid, as it happened, be unpaid still. 



A NEW YEARS DREAM. 



209 



And the worthy parson, considerate man, 
Finished his sermon before he began. 

The cook made tarts each day in the year, 
And nobody thought it the least bit queer. 
The kind policemen in all the parks 
Just stayed to see that the boys — such 

larks ! — 
Kept oil the grass; and the teachers bright 
Gave only — as children know is right — 
The shortest lessons and highest marks. 
The printers sent out, in the kindest way, 
A new St. Nicholas every day; 
And the editors always took the rhymes 
That the poets sent at all possible times. 
To please the fisherman down by the brook, 
The fish came swimming to catch the hook; 
The oysters smilingly opened their shells; 
The buckets sprang merrily up in the wells ; 
And the little dogs gathered the downy 

brood, 
And helped the chickens to scratch for food. 

The currants and blackberries picked them- 
selves, 

And stood, all canned, on the pantry shelves. 

The sun sat willingly up all night 

To cheer the earth, when it needed light. 

The babies their natural cries suppressed, 

For fear of breaking their parents' rest; 

And the dear little, kind little, sweet little 
boys 

Refrained from making the slightest noise, 



But quietly played with their harmless toys, 
And washed their hands without being 

told, 
To please their mothers, as good as gold. 

The breeze came blowing in gentle gales 
Whenever 't was wanted to fill the sails; 
The prisoners stayed in the unlocked jails; 
And the mice sat up on the balcony rails, 
To let the kittens play with their tails; 
And the old cats stifled their nightly wails ; 
And the little fish danced to tickle the 

whales ; 
And the brown hawk hurried to warn the 

quails ; 
And the butterflies loitered to help the snails; 
And the hammers were gentle and kind to 

the nails; 
And the mops took care not to scratch the 

pails ; 
And Princeton's ball gracefully yielded to 

Yale's; 
And — 

Here the wonderful story fails ; 
For I breathless woke. It was New Year's 

day. 
The world wagged on in the same old 
way. 
" It was only a dream ! " said I. " Dear me ! 
But — / '11 be obliging as I can be, 
And the world may be better for that — 
we '11 see ! " 




Vol. XXVI.— 27. 




s3y (pOrtadwr ifrcz/tc? 



Chapter I. 

" AN IMP OF WICKEDNESS." 

It was seven o'clock on a shining spring 
morning, and Warren Street was receiving its 
daily bath. All up and down its elm-shaded 
length, men and women and girls and boys were 
splashing and dashing and scrubbing and rub- 
bing ; and even the sun seemed willing to help, 
for he peered through the branches and winked 
and blinked as if to say, "You wash the steps 
and the pavements, and I '11 dry them." 

In front of No. 27 stood a personage whom 
the owner of the house No. 27 variously char- 
acterized as a " Looby," a " Good-for-nothing," 
a " Hobbledehoy," and an " Imp of Wicked- 
ness." She is the heroine of this story. Betty 
McGuire was a lanky girl in her fourteenth 
year. Her thin face was sprinkled with frec- 
kles, and her little nose was neither Greek nor 
Roman ; but her merry deep-blue eyes and 
her glossy black curls suggested the best type 
of Irish beauty. For Betty was of Irish de- 
scent, though American by birth and by 
several years of knocking about in American 
boarding-houses. 

Not that Miss Betty boarded — oh, dear, no! 
She had been waitress, scullery-maid, and maid 
of all work; and once, for three blessed weeks, 
she had been a lady's-maid; and those weeks 
were the one bright chapter in her poor little 



career. For Miss Christabel had been so beau- 
tiful, and so sweet and gentle ; more than all, 
she had been kind to Betty, and that had been 
the child's only experience with that virtue. 

But Miss Christabel was only as a dream 
now, and Betty's life in Mrs. Tucker's boarding- 
house was a hard and cold reality. 

It was n't the work only, — she could have 
stood that, — but it was the injustice. It did 
seem that, no matter how hard she tried, she 
never could convince the irascible landlady of 
her good intentions. For Betty was a consci- 
entious little girl, and truly tried to do right; 
only, the right bobbed about so she was never 
sure just where to find it. Indeed, from Mrs. 
Tucker's point of view, the right seemed to be 
always the thing Betty left undone. As she 
stood in front of No. 27, she presented a comical 
picture. 

Dressed in a shirt-waist which had seen 
brighter days, and a short and skimpy old 
black skirt, she wore at her belt a huge bunch 
of daisies, and her battered and torn straw 
hat was loaded with the same inexpensive blos- 
soms. Around her neck and tied under her 
chin in a great bow was a strip of Turkey-red 
calico, which Ellen the cook had given her. 

Betty's love of bright colors amounted almost 
to a passion ; and as, in consequence, Mrs. 
Tucker prescribed only dull and dark clothes, 
the child was obliged to choose with great 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



2IT 



caution the times and seasons when she might 
fling her colors to the breeze, and this strip of 
Turkey red was among her. most cherished pos- 
sessions. It had been originally intended to 
enliven Ellen's collection of carpet-rags; but 
Betty had shown such an overwhelming desire 
for its possession, that the good-natured cook 
had presented it to her; and ever since it had 
been a necktie, a sash, or a hat-band, as occa- 
sion required, but was always so adjusted that 
it could be instantly whisked off when the voice 
of Mrs. Tucker was heard in the land. 

So this morning it was a necktie, and im- 
parted an air of great dignity to its wearer, 
while she grasped firmly in her bony hands 
the nozzle of a garden hose, which rested its 
slimy, snaky black length across the pavement. 

A spray of water sparkled through the air, 
and bit the dust in the middle of the road. 

Then Pete, the ashman, came along, and 
with a grin surveyed the red-bowed maiden. 

" Hi, Betty, what yer doin' ? " 

" I should think you could see. I 'm play- 
in' the pianny in me boodore." 

" Funny, ain't yer ? Where 's Mike ? " 

" Sick. Have you got anything for me ? " 

" No, Betty ; the ash-barrel business ain't 
what it was. I don't pick up no satin sashes, 
nor yet no spangled overskirts — in fact, 
nothin' as ladies like yerself would care for.'' 

" All right, Pete ; but keep a good watch out, 
all the same. I 'd like a new feather most ex- 
ceedin', me red one havin' been croolly put in 
the fire by me friend Mrs. Tucker." 

" Now, that 's a real shame, Betty, and I '11 
thry fer to hunt ye another, sure I will." 

Pete departed, whistling, and Betty moved 
along and began on a fresh section of dust. 
Her next interlocutor was Jack, the lame news- 
boy, who hailed her from across the street : 

" Hello, Imp ! what are you up to now ? 
Out for dust ? " 

" Oh, only amusin' meself. Come on over." 

" 'Fraid you '11 shrink my new clo'es for me." 

" No, I won't, honor bright ! Come on." 

" Gutter seats all engaged ? " 

" No ; take one. Now see me hit the bird 
on that hydrant." 

"Smarty! Let me try it. There! he 's 
gone. Let 's try it on a dog ; here 's ' Bumps.' " 



" No ; you sha'n't tease Bumps. Give me 
the hose ; I must get the dust laid before Mrs. 
Tucker comes, or she '11 blow me sky-high." 

"Yes; I '11 give it to you in a minute; but 
here comes Van Court's trap, with all the swell 
dudes in it. Must be a picnic as brings 'em 
out so early. I 'm going to see how near I 
can come to 'em and miss 'em." 

" Oh, Jack, don't ! It '11 spoil the young 
ladies' dresses if a drop of water touches 'em. 
Give me that hose ! " And Betty snatched at 
it ; but, with the proverbial viciousness of inani- 
mate things, the hose gave a squirm, and a 
great stream of water was divided impartially 
among the surprised occupants of the carriage. 
The young man who was driving reined up his 
horses with a jerk, threw the lines to his com- 
panion, and sprang to the ground, confronting 
the two terrified children. He glared at them 
both, and then deciding that the inoffensive- 
looking cripple could not be the culprit, he 
turned to the more daring-looking Betty. 

" What did you do that for, you minx ? How 
dare you play your disgraceful pranks on a party 
of ladies and gentlemen ? Who are you ? " 

" Please, sir," broke in Lame Jack, " the Imp 
did n't do it; it was my fault." 

" The ' Imp ' ! A fine name, truly ! Don't at- 
tempt to shield her, boy; her guilt speaks for 
itself in her face." 

For, naturally, poor Betty was blushing scar- 
let, and although she tried to speak, the irate 
gentleman gave her no chance. 

" Be off, lad, and sell your papers. I '11 attend 
to this. Now, Imp, where do you belong?" 

" Go on, Jack, do," implored Betty ; for the 
lame boy's face showed an eagerness to do bat- 
tle for his friend, and she feared that if the gen- 
tleman's wrath should be transferred to Jack it 
would go hard with him. So, feeling more than 
ever his uselessness, Jack hobbled away. 

Then Betty turned to her accuser. 

" It was an accident, sir ; I was trying not to 
hit the carriage, but the hose twisted about so, 
I could n't handle it." 

Betty's earnest face might have convinced 
even a more skeptical judge; but the daisies 
nodding above it, and the audacious red bow 
below it, gave the child an air of frivolity that 
argued ill for her cause. 



212 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



[Jan. 



" A likely story ! Popinjay ! Where do you itions told her that these people had heard of 

live ? Who is your father ? " the justly famed excellence of her house and 

" Oh, sir, I have n't any father, or mother, table, and were seeking accommodations, 

neither. I 'm Mrs. Tucker's kitchen girl ; and So it was with a beaming smile of hope that 

please, please don't tell her about it. She she invited them in — a smile, however, which 

could n't help you any, and she 'd 'most kill me." turned to a stare of amazement as she saw the 




"THE HOSE GAVE A SQUIRM, AND A GREAT STREAM OF WATER WAS DIVIDED IMPARTIALLY AMONG 
THE SURPRISED OCCUPANTS OK THE CARRIAGE." 



This was philosophy; but the enraged Mr. Van 
Court was n't asking for philosophy. He strode 
up the steps and rang Mrs. Tucker's door-bell 
with decision and energy. 

Meantime the two besprinkled ladies had 
climbed down from the trap and presented 
themselves also at the door; and when Mrs. 
Tucker came, she beheld three of "the quality" 
apparently very anxious to enter her house. 

Now, Mrs. Tucker was cut out for a success- 
ful boarding-house keeper by every implication 
of her being. Her features, her person, and her 
dress all gave the impression of economy and 
even of a scant table. And, although an early 
hour for such an errand, her businesslike intu- 



ladies' wet dresses, and changed again to a 
thunder-cloud frown as the terrified Betty was 
pushed into prominence by Mr. Van Court. 

"I ask, madam," he said, "why this over- 
dressed factotum of yours should be allowed 
to drench innocent passers-by ? " 

His satire had expended itself, and he stood 
glaring at Betty, too angry for further words. 

Miss Van Court took up the thread of the 
complaint, saying in a drawling voice, " My 
new barege is spoiled." In truth it was, and 
her bonnet also. The other lady interrupted 
her, saying concisely : " What we want is to come 
in and dry our clothing by your fire, if we may. 
Richard, you will lose your train if you tarry 



•■] 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



213 



longer. Go to the station, and Thomas may 
call for us on his return. You see, madam, 
we were taking my brother to the cars, when 
we were suddenly deluged by a stream of 
water from the garden hose. We cannot go 
farther in this state, so we ask assistance — 
though I fear my parasol is beyond all help." 

She looked regretfully at the soaking mass 
of white chiffon and silk, and the utter ruin 
of the lovely sunshade went straight to Betty's 
beauty-loving heart. 

" Oh, miss," she exclaimed, clasping her 
hands, " the purty parrysol ! " And her big blue 
eyes filled with tears at the bedraggled wreck. 

Mrs. Tucker urged the ladies to come in, at 
the same time snatching at Betty's arm with 
such a vicious jerk that Mr. Van Court felt 
he had secured for the "Popinjay" a punish- 
ment to fit her crime, as he hurried away 
to his train. 

" You imp of wickedness, what have you been 
doing now ? " murmured Mrs. Tucker, in a tone 
no less menacing because of its low pitch; " and 
what do you mean by wearing this disgusting 
trumpery ? You are a disgrace to my house ! " 

She twitched off poor Betty's red necktie, 
which the child had forgotten, and, pushing 
her, added : 

" Go at once to the cellar and split wood. 
Stay there until I call you, and mind you are 
not idle a moment ! " 

Then Mrs. Tucker turned to the ladies a 
countenance meant to show respectful regret 
and sympathy. 

" I am so sorry that you should have suffered 
through the vile pranks of that imp of wicked- 
ness," she said, as she lighted a wood-fire which 
was laid ready in the drawing-room ; " she 
makes my life a torment." 

" Ah, well," said the younger Miss Van 
Court, who had been impressed by Betty's tear- 
ful eyes, "perhaps it was an accident; don't 
be too hard on her." 

Mrs. Tucker took the cue. " Yes, ma'am ; as 
you say, an accident ; but what a pity, ma'am ! 
Pray let me help dry your feathers." 

The blazing fire did quick and efficacious 
work, and when the trap returned, the damaged 
clothing was almost entirely restored, only the 
parasol being permanently injured. 



With renewed apologies and regrets, Mrs. 
Tucker bowed her guests out, and then went 
downstairs in search of the luckless Imp. 

Chapter II. 

IN THE CELLAR. 

In obedience to Mrs. Tucker's order, Betty 
started for the cellar, and as she went down the 
stairs she felt that her cup of woe was full in- 
deed. To be brought in from her beloved fresh 
air and sunshine, and set to work in the dark, 
damp cellar was bad enough, but far worse was 
the loss of her beautiful Turkey-red calico. 
And, too, Betty had had no breakfast that 
morning, and hunger does not add to the brav- 
ery of a little girl fourteen years old. 

As she passed the kitchen door a goodly 
smell came out invitingly; but she dared not 
stop there, for Mrs. Tucker would expect the 
pile of split sticks to measure fairly with the 
time which might elapse before her appearance. 

So Betty went on down-cellar, picked up 
the ax, and attacked a log of wood. She knew 
that Mrs. Tucker, in the parlor above, could 
hear her strokes, and that consequently they 
must occur in rapid succession. 

"It 's starvin' I am!" she said to herself. 
" Neither bite nor sup this blessed mornin', an' 
likely nothin' till noon — an' me a-tryin' most 
especial this week to be good. But the more 
I tries, the more things happens from outside 
to pervent. I s'pose it 's just my luck. Some 
folks is born to bad luck, and what luck comes 
we has to take. But I wish I had a home. 
Seems to me I would n't mind havin' bad luck 
if I had a pretty home to have it in. Hallo, 
Jack ! — come on down." 

The crippled newsboy had appeared at the 
cellar window, and, in response to Betty's invi- 
tation, Jack swung himself and his crutch in- 
side, with an agility that would have done 
credit to a boy who had full use of his legs. 

"What 's up, Betty? Where 's the old 
lady ? " 

" In the parlor, passin' the time of day wid 
the Miss Van Courts. Say, Jack, did you ever 
have a home ? " 

" A home ? Naw — nothin' but the hospital, 
and I runned away from that." 



214 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



[Jan. 



" Don't you wish you did have a home ? " 

" Yep ; but I 'd ruther have money. If yer 
have money, yer can buy a home." 

" Oh, I never had any money. I 've just 
worked for clo'es and board. Of course, while 
you 're wishin', you might as well wish for 
money. But I 'd rather have schoolin'. I 'd 
just love to go to school, an' learn ' I am, thou 
art, he is.' That 's what Ethel Green learns; 
and she learns beautiful map-questions and 
Aggers, too." 

" Stop yer choppin' a minute, Betty ; I can't 
hear what yer say." 

" I can't stop. She 's up above, listenin'." 

" What a nipper she is ! Will yer ketch it 
fer the hosin' performance, Bet ? " 

" S'pose so." 

" It 's a shame, 'cos that was my fault. Say, 
Betty, I 'm awful sorry I got yer in trouble." 

" Oh, it does n't make any difference. If she 
was n't ragin' about this, it 'd be somethin' 
else. She 's gen'rally mad at somethin'. Oh, 
jiminy, Jack, she 's comin'! You won't have 
time to get out. Hide behind the ice-box." 

Jack scrambled behind the big refrigerator, 
the noise of his clattering crutch drowned by 
the vigorous blows of Betty's ax. 

" You good-for-nothing looby ! " began the 
landlady. " You have brought disgrace and re- 
proach upon my house ; you have spoiled the 
ladies' fine gowns, and you deserve to be 
turned into the street. After all I 've done for 
you, you have no sense of gratitude ! After 
all I 've taught you, you have no sense of de- 
corum, but stand out in front of my house, 
tricked out like an organ-grinder's monkey, and 
insult passers-by. Lay down that ax and look 
at me ! What can you say for yourself ? " 

Betty dropped the ax and looked at Mrs. 
Tucker. Impressed by the lady's extreme 
rage, the thought struck her that she had 
nothing to lose and everything to gain, and 
she resolved on a bold stroke. 

" I 'm sorry," she said, — " awful sorry ; but 
truly, ma'am, it was an accident. But please, 
ma'am, if you '11 give me back me red neck- 
tie, I '11 not wear it out o' doors again." 

" Give it back to you ! " fairly screamed 
Mrs. Tucker. "I '11 throw it in the fire; in- 
deed you won't wear it out of doors again. 



Now, as part of your punishment, you may 
stay down here and split wood all the morning." 

" But, Mrs. Tucker, I ain't had breakfast." 

" And you don't deserve any. But there 's 
some cold tea in the pantry ; you may have 
that and a slice of bread. You 'd better not 
dawdle over it, for all those sticks must be split 
and neatly piled up by the time Ellen calls you 
to pare the vegetables." 

" Yes, ma'am," said Betty, meekly ; and Mrs. 
Tucker walked away, feeling doubtful whether 
she had punished her prisoner enough, and re- 
solving that the careless girl should pay for her 
fault in some other way. 

Betty chopped away sullenly, and Jack came 
out of his hiding-place and offered sympathy. 

" She 's a mean old thing ; but ain't you goin' 
to eat nothin', Betty ? " 

" No ; I don't want her food. I hate her ! " 

"Say, Betty," — and Jack's kind voice was 
very comforting, — " I 've got a nickel, and if 
yer say so, I '11 skip down to Gruber's and buy 
you a hot muffin and a sausage, 'cos it was 
truly my fault that yer got trapped. Will yer 
eat 'em, hey ? " 

" Yes, indeedy ! You 're awful good, Jack." 

The lame boy hobbled off on his errand, and 
Betty whacked away at her task until he re- 
turned. Then she dropped her ax, and sat 
down to enjoy the hot muffin and sausage. 

" My, but it 's good, Jack ! But are n't you 
hungry yourself ? " 

" N-no — not to say hungry. I had some 
breakfast. But that 's tiptop, ain't it ? " 

" It 's prime; but I won't eat any more unless 
you take some, too. Here"; and Betty broke 
off a generous bit and gave it to him, and the 
two children sat nibbling away together. 

" Let 's pretend, Jack," said Betty ; " that '11 
make it last longer, and be more fun, besides. 
Let 's pretend we 're quality, and you 've 
come to dine with me. I 'm a grand lady with 
heaps of book-learnin', and a red silk dress 
trimmed with blue bugles, and I live in a 
home. You 're a hero who was lamed in the 
battle of Waterloo — " 

" But I couldn't be, Betty. That battle was 
years ago." 

"Oh, was it? Well, never mind; any old 
battle will do. Now pretend. Good even- 



I.] 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



215 



in', Mr. Riley ; it 's pleased to see you I am — 
thou art — he is.' " 

" Why do you say that ? " 

" Oh, that 's grammar, Jack. The quality 
always talks grammar. It 's all the grammar I 
know. But I know one bit of history. I heard 
Ethel Green studying it out of a book. She 
said it over and over, and I learned it while I 
was dusting her room." 

"What is it?" 

" Well, if you '11 pretend with me, I '11 say 
it. The quality brings in history as they talks." 

" All right. Good evenin', Miss McGuire. 
You 're lookin' gorgeous to-night." 

"Yes; me new gown is a becomin' color, 
though I say it as should n't. Will you have 
some of this strawberry ice-cream ? It 's the 
best I 've ate since the crescent waved over the 
church of St. Sophia and the Byzantine Em- 
pire fell forever." 

" Whew ! Is that your history, Bet ? " 

"Yes; but don't notice it. Just talk away. 
You 're no good at all at pretendin'. Why, I 
can pretend this cellar is a beautiful parlor, or 
a flower-garden, or a school-room. I like the 
school-room best, and I pretend there 's a kind, 
gentle teacher-lady, and lots of books and 
slates and things ; and I learn away like fury ; 
and when I say me lessons, the teacher says, 
' That 's excellent, my child.' I heard Ethel 
Green's teacher say that to her once. Now I 
must go back to me choppin', or I won't have 
sufficient of sticks to gratify me friend Mrs. 
Tucker. Clear out, Jack; I can't work if 
you 're here to talk to " ; and as the boy 
hobbled away, she added : " I 'm awful thankful 
to you for the muffin. I '11 pay back your 
kindness when I come into me fortune." 

Betty's fortune was a standing joke among 
her small circle of acquaintances. It was purely 
traditional, and no one but Betty had any faith 
in the authenticity of the tale. 

The facts of Betty's early history were 
these : A young Irishman had come over to 
this country as an agent for a firm of Belfast 
linen-dealers. He had wooed and won a fair 
Boston girl contrary to the counsels of her pa- 
rents, who had objected to Martin McGuire 
with no very good reason. But the young couple 
ran away and were married. For several years 



the parents continued implacable; then they 
relented, and wrote for Mr. and Mrs. McGuire 
and their baby daughter to come home and be 
forgiven. With great joy the party started ; but 
during their journey a serious railroad accident 
occurred, and the train in which they were 
traveling was thrown from the track. The 
wounded passengers were taken to various hos- 
pitals, and it so chanced that Mrs. McGuire 
was separated from her husband and child, and 
afterward received the report that they had 
both perished. 

Though the report was true of Martin Mc- 
Guire, it had been a mistake about the child, for 
the baby Betty had been found very much alive, 
and had been taken to an orphan asylum. 

In his dying moments Martin McGuire 
managed to write a few words on a paper, 
which he pinned to his child's frock. The 
paper read : " Elizabeth McGuire. Possible 
heiress to a large fortune." He did this be- 
cause he hoped it would attract attention to 
his orphaned baby, and insure kind treatment 
for her ; and as to the fortune, he had always 
lived in expectation of an inheritance from his 
father, who had long ago gone to Australia in 
search of gold. No news had ever been re- 
ceived from him since he started away with 
pick and pack, but if he had amassed wealth, 
Martin McGuire was his only heir and must 
inherit it. 

Even this paper, however, failed to disclose 
Betty's whereabouts to her sorrowing mother, 
for no attention was paid to the scrawled mes- 
sage, and the paper was soon lost. But it had 
served to fix the child's name, and the episode 
remained in the memory of the matron of the 
asylum, and was told to Betty in after years. 

As she grew old enough, she was made to 
work, and the hardest and most menial labors 
fell to her share. 

When she was ten years old she was put out 
to service, and had drifted from one employer 
to another ever since. Although she inherited 
her father's indomitable pluck and energy, his 
good nature and sense of humor, yet the girl 
was very like her mother in innate refinement 
of character, her winning ways, and her sensi- 
tiveness; and so the poor little starved heart 
and brain suffered even more than her ill- 



2l6 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



[Jan. 



clothed and ill-fed little body. In spite of her 
enforced association with ignorant people she 
felt a desire and a capacity for education, and 
although she naturally adopted something of 




"'IT 'S THE BEST I 'VE ATE SINCE THE CRESCENT WAVED OVER THE CHURCH OF ST. SOPHIA.' 

the careless language and rough-and-ready ways 
of her associates, yet the finer instincts were 
latent and ready to recognize and respond to 
true culture and gentleness wherever she might 
meet them. 

Betty loved beautiful things, and, not possess- 
ing any, she tried to make up for the lack of 
substantial luxuries by furnishing her poor little 
air-castles with a lavishness which was limited 
only by her own ignorance. 



But all her other trials and deprivations were 
as nothing to her longing for a home; or, 
rather, all the other sorrows were summed up 
in that. She wanted to feel that she belonged 

somewhere, that 
she would be 
welcomed some- 
where; and her 
feelings of envy 
were roused only 
on seeing some 
manifestation of 
home happiness. 
Betty had am- 
bitions, and a 
dogged deter- 
mination to 
achieve them, 
sooner or later; 
and she thought 
that, if she could 
ever get a place 
where, besides 
giving her board 
and clothes, they 
would pay even 
a small amount 
of money, she 
would save it all 
toward this fu- 
ture home of 
hers, which at 
present seemed 
as remote as the 
distant sun. 

But the days 

went by, with no 

change for the 

better; in fact, 

Betty's hard life 

was made harder as the summer days grew 

warm and Mrs. Tucker became correspondingly 

more irritable and thoughtless. 

And so it happened that one beautiful, 
bright morning when Mrs. Tucker felt sure 
that Betty wanted to be out of doors, she sent 
her to the dining-room to kill flies. 

Greenborough people, though living near 
the city of New York, were primitive and con- 
servative; so in Mrs. Tucker's dining-room a 



•] 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



217 



pink mosquito-netting was spread over the 
always-laid table between meals. It chanced 
to be a new one, and of a very bright pink, 
and it suggested many possibilities to Betty's 
admiring eye. 

She took it from the table, and tried it in 
various capacities — as a train, a shawl, a sash, 
and finally as a bridal veil. 

This proved so satisfactory that she attacked 
the marauding flies with the pink gauze still 
fastened to the top of her head and floating 
behind her as she danced around. 

So when Mrs. Tucker glanced in to see if the 
fly massacre was proceeding with sufficient ra- 
pidity, the waving pink cloud that met her eye 
failed to inspire her with mirth or admiration. 

" You imp of wickedness ! " she 
began; and then the situation 
seemed really beyond her range 
of epithets, and she paused and 
looked at Betty until the child 
shivered with dread. 

She had done wrong, she knew ; 
there was no excuse for her ; but 
the temptation to see how the 
beautiful pink fabric would be- 
come her had proved too strong 
to resist. 

" I 'm sorry," she began ; but 
she shook in her shoes as Mrs. 
Tucker interrupted her and cried : 

" Leave my house to-day ! I 've 
been tormented with you for two 
years, and I '11 harbor such a minx 
no longer! Out you go this very 
day, you good-for-nothing, and 
seek some place where they will let 
you destroy their house-furnishings 
to gratify your jackanapes foolish- 
ness. Go at once, I tell you; 
/ 'm done with you " ; and Mrs. 
Tucker pushed the frightened and 
weeping child out into the hall. 

Betty went on blindly through 
the hall and kitchen, and out on 
the little back porch, where she sat 
down and gave way to violent 
crying. Not that she loved Mrs. Tucker ; not 
that she was sorry for her naughtiness ; but the 
house from which she had been turned was the 
Vol. XXVI.— 28. 



nearest approach to a home that she knew of, 
and where to go was a question with absolutely 
no answer. 

Now, Mrs. Tucker had not really meant for 
Betty to go away — she was too useful a servant 
to lose; but the landlady thought that a lesson 
of this kind would do no harm, and might 
frighten Betty into more discreet behavior. 

So Betty was left alone with her grief, and 
continued to sit sobbing on the back steps. 
Even Bumps, who poked his frowzy little head 
up within her arm, and blinked his sympathetic 
eyes at her, failed to show her a way out of 
her difficulties. 

After a while a hobbling step was heard 
coming round the corner of the house, and 




BET IV HEAHS NEWS. 



Betty raised her head to see Lame Jack with an 
excited look on his face. He came up at a 
rapid pace, and did not wait for her to speak. 



218 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



" Betty — I say, Bet, stop cryin' while I tell 
yer somethin'." 

" Don't want to hear it," she mumbled. 

" Yes, you do. You '11 want to hear this. 
The postman brought a letter for you." 

" What ? " 

" He did, true as true. I was goin' by, and 
he asked me, did Betty McGuire live here, and 
I said yes, and he give all the letters to Ellen 
at the door. I asked him afterward if there 
was one for you, and he said there was." 

Betty had stopped crying now, and her 



troubles were all crowded out of her mind by 
this new wonder. 

" Jack ! what can it be about ? Where is 
the letter ? " 

" Dunno ; s'pose old Tuck 's got it by this 
time. Like as not you '11 never see it," replied 
the crippled boy. 

" But I must, Jack ; it 's mine." 

Just then Mrs. Tucker's step was heard in 
the kitchen, and Mrs. Tucker's voice — but such 
a different voice from the one she generally 
used — said, " Betty ! " 



{To be continued. ) 



A DOUGHTY SPIRIT. 



By Rosalie M. Jonas. 




1ENCING foils, 
and balls, 
and bats, 
Golf-sticks, 
tennis-rack- 
ets ! That 's 
A real " daisy " 
roller-skate, 
And there 's a " chainless " '98. 
A boy could fly on her — 

gee-whee ! 
That is, 'most any boy but me. 

And "crops" and saddles — my! 

what fun, 
To sit your horse quite straight, 

and run 
The game to cover — if the 

" game " 
Was n't so often hunted lame! 
But most boys don't mind that, 

you see, 
Because most boys are n't just 

like me. 




THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



By George A. Henty. 



[ This story was begun in the November number. ] 

Chapter V. 

Guy and the negro were half suffocated 
before they reached the window and drew in 
long breaths of air at the loopholes of the 
shutter. No sound was to be heard in the 
nearer apartments, but from below half a 
dozen men's voices still joined in the hymn. 

The shutter was opened sufficiently for one 
to pass out at a time, and the rope, one 
end of which was securely fastened to a piece 
of heavy furniture, was lowered. 

" When you get to the bottom, lie down 
straight, Massa Guy. I stop and pull de shutter 
to behind me when I come out. Slide down 
quietly ; no jump down on de ground." 

The sky was so lighted up by the blaze in 
the front of the house that Guy felt sure that 
any on the watch could not fail to see them, 
forgetting that to others standing behind, the 
house would loom up black against the glow 
of the fire on sky, cottages, and trees. He slid 
down rapidly, and, the instant his feet touched 
the ground, threw himself flat, and lay, pistol 
in hand, expecting every moment to see the 
form of a savage bending over him. Shanti 
joined him almost instantly. 

" Now, marse, which way you t'ink ob go- 
ing ? " he asked in a whisper. 

" I have not the least idea, Shanti. You 
lead the way." 

"We must wriggle along like snakes, sah. 
Turn your belt so de sword come on your back; 
if it strike against stone, all up wid us, sure 
'nough. Must go bery slow, marse ; plenty ob 
time. When we once t'roo dem, we run ; if you 
hear noise, you no stir; if we come across 
skulking redskin, me quiet him ! " 

Drawing his long knife and placing it be- 
tween his teeth, the negro started, moving with 



an absolute noiselessness that Guy found it 
hard to imitate. They were now in the garden 
in which the vegetables for the household use 
were grown. The negro bore away obliquely 
toward the right until he reached the spot 
where some rows of maize had already 
gained the height of eighteen inches. Guy 
wondered that he had not thought of these, 
which certainly afforded a shelter from sight, 
unless the boys came right upon some Indian 
posted there. They had gone some twenty 
yards when Guy's hands fell upon the negro's 
foot, and found that he had stopped. Feeling 
sure that there was some obstacle in the way, 
Guy also lay motionless, and, looking fixedly 
ahead, made out something dark a pace or two 
in front of the negro. Presently the latter 
pushed Guy's hand with his foot, as if to bid him 
remain where he was; then it was withdrawn. 

Still watching, Guy made out the outline of 
an Indian with a head-dress of tall feathers. He 
was squatting as motionless as if carved in 
stone ; his eyes were fixed on the back of the 
house, but Guy fancied that he was listening 
intently. Suddenly the figure became blurred, 
and there was a dull sound. Shanti had crept 
up to within a yard, and then, gathering his feet 
under him, had suddenly sprung upon the 
Indian. Grasping him by the throat with the 
left hand, Shanti buried his knife deep in the 
redskin's body. There was a moment's pause, 
and then Guy again saw the plumed head, and, 
to his delight, came Shanti's whisper: 

"Come on, marse; dat bad Indian gib no 
more trouble." 

Guy could not help shuddering as he 
crawled past the dead body of the Indian. 
Once or twice they stopped again, and through 
the blades of maize Guy saw a dark figure 
standing but a few paces away. When they 
came to the end of the row there was a ditch, 
a foot or so deep, for carrying off the water in 



219 



220 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Jan. 



times of heavy rain ; and Shanti turned into 
this. They could hear the sound of many 
voices round them, and knew that they were 
now close to the spot where a number of red- 
skins were on the watch to intercept fugi- 




" SHANTI HAD CREPT UP TO WITHIN A YARD OF THE INDIAN 



tives. Suddenly a great light flashed up, the 
ground shook, and there was a deep roar, fol- 
lowed by a heavy, rumbling sound, above 
which rose yells of astonishment and alarm 
from the Indians, who could be heard rushing 
away in all directions. 

For a moment Guy lay motionless. The ne- 
cessity for devoting every energy to the work of 
crawling noiselessly, and the expectation of mo- 



mentary attack, had so occupied his thoughts 
that, beyond a deep feeling of pain and op- 
pression, he had been able to give but slight 
thought to those he had left. Now all was 
over; his father and all those among whom he 
had been brought up were 
no more ; and deep sobs 
of pain burst from him. 

" Come on, Marse 
Guy," the negro said. 
"No time to weep for 
fadder now ; plenty ob 
time afterward ; now de 
time to get as far away 
as can ; lose lives if stop 
here." 

Thus urged, Guy moved 
forward again ; and they 
presently came to a wall, 
at the side of which the 
. drain ran. By this time 
the yells of alarm of the 
Indians near the house 
had changed to cries of 
triumph ; the shouts were 
repeated by those who 
had lately fled, and they 
could be heard running 
toward the house. Look- 
ing back, Guy saw that the 
roof was gone, and a por- 
tion of the upper story ; 
the light of the fire had 
greatly decreased, owing, 
no doubt, to timbers of 
the upper part having 
fallen upon it. 

" Can get up and run 
now, marse. No fear of 
meeting redskin — all gone 
to look at house." 
Guy was glad indeed to rise to his feet, and 
to run along, though stooping so that his head 
should not show above the top of the wall. 
A quarter of an hour later they were far out 
in the plantation. 

" Which way now, Massa Guy ? " 
" We will make for the canoe." 
" Good job, dat," Shanti said approvingly. 
" Water leab no trace Indian can find." 



1899.] 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



22 I 



" There is no fear of their trying to track us, 
Shanti; they will suppose that every one has 
perished," Guy remarked. 

" No, marse ; dey not t'ink dat ; when day- 
light come dey look about, and dey bery soon 
see dat rope hang from window." 

' ; I never thought of that ! " Guy exclaimed. 
" How unlucky ! But I don't see how we could 
have got it down." 

" Could n't get it down," the black said. 
" Too much smoke to untie knot, and if cut 
him, hab to jump, and dey hear de sound for 
sure. Bad job, marse, but could not help it. 
Directly dey find rope, dey look about, follow 
track, find dead redskin, den dey set out on 
hunt. Still, we get four or five hours' start, and 
data long time. We go up de stream or down, 
massa ? " 

" Up the stream," Guy replied. " It is cer- 
tain that the whole of the plantations and small 
villages have been destroyed, even if James- 
town had successfully defended itself, which 
I fear will not be the case. At any rate, the 
whole country between this and the town will 
be occupied by the Indians, and I do not think 
that there will be a chance of getting through, 
though I might try if I were sure that James- 
town was safe." 

It was not until long afterward that Guy 
heard that Jamestown and a few settlements 
near it had escaped destruction. The day 
before the attack, an Indian had warned a 
white who had rendered him a great service 
that the town and every settlement would be 
attacked that night, and the whites massacred, 
and implored him to go on board a ship and 
sail down the river at once. He went, how- 
ever, straight to the governor, and gave informa- 
tion of the intentions of the natives. Although 
he had attached no credence to the message 
that Master Neville had sent him, the governor 
saw that this confirmation of it was serious in- 
deed. The whole of the whites were at once 
called to arms, and messengers were sent off on 
horseback to two or three other small towns 
on the river. The consequence was that 
when the attack was made, it was repulsed 
with heavy loss, and the natives, discomfited 
at finding that their plans had been betrayed, 
made no attempt to renew the attack. 



Everywhere else, however, they were com- 
pletely successful. The whole of the outlying 
plantations and villages were destroyed, the 
whites in all cases being taken entirely by 
surprise, and being murdered before they could 
offer any resistance. Three hundred and forty- 
seven settlers lost their lives on that fatal night. 

Half an hour's running brought the fugi- 
tives to the spot where the canoe was con- 
cealed among the bushes near the river-bank. 
The black, at Guy's request, took his place 
in the bow, as he was able to see far better 
in the darkness than his master. The river 
was some twenty yards wide, and the trees 
branched far over it on each side. Alone, 
Guy would have had to wait until daylight; 
but the negro kept the boat in the middle of 
the stream without difficulty, and the light 
canoe flew rapidly along under the powerful 
strokes of the paddles. 

When daylight broke, the stream had nar- 
rowed and was but a few yards wide, the trees 
meeting overhead. They had now gone many 
miles beyond the highest point that they had 
reached in their hunting expeditions. 

" Can't go much farther, Marse Guy." 

" No ; we have come pretty well to the end 
of the stream. We will land as soon as we 
get to a spot where we can go ashore without 
leaving marks. Look out for a little clump of 
dry ground or a fallen tree." 

" Which side we land ? " 

" It does not matter. By the light in the sky, 
we must be heading nearly due south. I have 
been thinking while we rowed, Shanti, and it 
seems to me that our only plan is to make for a 
river that I have often heard the Indians speak 
of. They said that as far south as can be 
walked between sunrise and sunset — which 
means, I think, about forty miles — is another 
river, not so large as the James, but still a 
large river, which rises among the mountains 
to the west but a few miles distant from the 
point where the James runs through them. 
We cannot be very many miles from that river 
now. I should say that we had better keep 
southwest, because they said that the farther 
the river goes, the farther it is from the James; 
and they described the country where it runs 
into the sea as being wet and swampy." 



222 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Jan. 



" Ob course we take canoe, massa ? " 

" Yes ; it is not a great weight to carry ; but 
we shall have to be very careful that it does 
not get damaged going through the forest." 

" Dat so, massa; Shanti could make another 
canoe, but not one like dat." 

"Besides, we have no time to waste; we 
know how those redskins can follow the trail 
of the deer, and, from the stories I have heard 
them tell, I have no doubt that they can follow 
the trail of an enemy just as easily. As soon 
as they discover that we have gone, they will 
follow at full speed to the point where we 
launched the canoe ; then some will, no doubt, 
go down the stream, and some will come up. 
There were certainly two or three hundred of 
them who attacked our house. Many will go 
off in other directions, but twenty or thirty may 
be sent in pursuit of us." 

" Dey soon get tired, massa, when dey not 
find us." 

" We must not count on that, Shanti. I have 
heard many stories of how they have tracked 
a foe for weeks, and finally overtaken and slain 
him. The Indians are hunters, and I believe that 
they prefer hunting man to any other creature ; 
they will follow our trail until they lose it alto- 
gether, or until we arrive in the country of some 
tribe at enmity with them. However, we have 
the satisfaction of knowing that we have a 
start of some twenty miles ahead of them, at 
least, even if they find the rope and take up the 
trail the first thing this morning. Probably, at 
first, only half a dozen will follow ; but as soon 
as they find that we have taken to the river, 
they will see that more will be required, and 
there will be little loss of time before two par- 
ties are formed, one to go up the river and the 
other down. Of course they will have to divide 
again, so as to follow both banks; they will 
know exactly how far the river goes, and will 
have to examine the bank most carefully as 
they move along, and I doubt whether they 
will be here till late this afternoon. When they 
find where we left the stream, — which I think 
they are sure to do, however careful we 
may be, — they will, no doubt, follow until it 
gets dark, and will then probably camp until 
morning. I doubt whether even Indians could 
follow the trail by torch-light ; so that even if 



this river is twenty miles from here, — I should 
hardly think that it was so far by what I have 
heard of it from the Indians, — we ought to be 
afloat long before they reach it. Then we shall 
have the stream with us, and I should think 
that we would be safe from further pursuit." 

A spot on the bank free from bushes was 
soon found. They stepped out, and lifted the 
canoe ashore. 

"Better take off boots, massa; naked feet 
no leave much mark ; those heels of your boots 
make mark easy to see wid half an eye." 

Guy at once pulled off his boots, and placed 
them in the canoe. In this they also laid their 
heavy pistols, and then lifted it on to their 
shoulders, and struck into the forest. Once 
away from the stream, there was little under- 
growth ; the trees stood thickly together, form- 
ing a shade so dense that, except where the 
light penetrated, at places where trees had 
fallen from age, or a space had been cleared 
by some great storm, the ground was clear 
of all obstacles. Both had sufficient forest 
experience to be able to keep their course with- 
out hesitation. Patches of moss or lichen 
were sufficient indication to them as to the 
points of the compass, while, as the sun rose 
high enough for its rays to find a passage here 
and there through the canopy of leaves, it 
furnished so unerring an index that it was un- 
necessary even to glance at the indications 
given by tree-trunks. 

Their only difficulty consisted in crossing 
two lanes where tracts a hundred yards across 
had been cleared by hurricanes. One of 
these was a recent one, and they stopped dis- 
mayed when they arrived at its edge. The 
trunks were all laid one way, as if some gigan- 
tic roller had been dragged along across the 
forest; but their boughs were twisted in the 
wildest confusion, while a thick undergrowth, 
some fifteen feet in height, had already sprung 
up between the trunks and branches. 

"What to be done, Marse Guy ? " 

" There is nothing that I can see but to cut 
through it. I know that these lanes often ex- 
tend for many miles, and we have no time to 
go round it. It is lucky that you brought your 
ax instead of a sword. Let us begin at the 
point where that trunk, in falling, rested on the 



1899.] 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



223 



one next to it. We can crawl under that; after- 
ward we must take our chances." 

It was terrible work. They took turns 
using the ax, finding no difficulty where only 
the fresh-grown underwood had to be chopped 
through, but having enormous labor in cross- 
ing the fallen trunks and hewing a way through 
the tangled branches. The most extreme care 
had to be used to prevent the canoe from 
being damaged by the rough ends of broken 
branches, and it was not until after two hours 
of incessant toil that they reached the other 
side of the barren. 

A second lane was of much longer stand- 
ing, and the trunks of the fallen trees were 
already crumbling into dust from the influence 
of the climate and the attacks of insect foes. 
Half an hour's work, therefore, sufficed to 
take them across. 

Guy had put on his boots when they arrived 
at the first obstacle, and, knowing that there 
could be no difficulty in following up their track, 
continued to wear them. Darkness was already 
closing in when they saw the trees open before 
them, and a few minutes later they arrived on 
the bank of a considerable stream. 

Chapter VI. 

It was fortunate that Guy had traveled 
southwest instead of south, for near where he 
found the Roanoke the river makes a sudden 
turn to the south, and it would have taken him 
two if not three days before he came to it. 

"Thank Heaven!" Guy exclaimed, when they 
reached the river. " We are safe so far. Put 
the canoe in the water, Shanti ; we will camp 
on the other side. I shall sleep a deal more 
comfortably with the river between us and our 
foes. I know they cannot possibly arrive here 
before morning, even if they are on the track 
all night; still, one would keep on fancying 
that one heard sounds in the wood." 

" Dat so, Marse Guy ; dar is some sounds 
dat me should be bery glad to hear." 

" What sounds are those ? " 

" Me should like to hear de grunt ob a pig, 
or de call ob a gobbler. Just dis time last 
night we take our meal, and me dat hungry 
I could eat 'mos' anything," Shanti answered. 



" I suppose I am hungry, too, Shanti, though 
I have n't given it a thought until now," Guy 
replied, with a look of surprise. " There has 
been no time to be hungry." 

" Me been t'inking about eating, massa, and 
dat make me wonderful hungry. To-morrow 
morning, first thing, make bow and arrows. 
No use run away from Indians and den die 
ob hunger." 

"That is true enough. Of course we have 
our pistols, if we see anything to shoot ; but I 
should not like to fire them off unless in ex- 
treme necessity. There is no saying who might 
be about the woods, and the sound might bring 
a score of redskins upon us." 

By this time they had reached the opposite 
shore. The canoe was carried a few yards into 
the forest, and then they threw themselves 
down; and even the thought of the loss that 
they had suffered, and the danger that sur- 
rounded them, was insufficient to keep Guy 
awake for more than ten minutes after he had 
lain down, while the negro fell asleep almost 
the instant his head touched the ground. 

The sun had not yet risen when Guy was 
awakened. Shanti was shaking him by the 
shoulder, exclaiming, " Wake up, massa, quick, 
and get canoe into water." 

Guy sprang to his feet with the idea that 
they were about to be attacked, and without 
question seized one end of the canoe and car- 
ried it to the water, took his place and seized 
the paddle. 

" Where, Shanti ? " he exclaimed. 

" Dere, sah, half-way across de river. Pad- 
dle for yo' life." 

Mechanically Guy struck his paddle in the 
water, but without having an idea what the 
negro meant. Leaning a little on one side so 
as to look directly ahead in the direction in 
which they were speeding, he saw what had 
so excited Shanti, and at once put more vigor 
into his strokes ; for above the water he could 
see the head and antlers of a stag. The animal 
had already taken the alarm, and was swim- 
ming strongly ; but the canoe flew along, and 
overtook it within ten yards of the shore. The 
negro laid down his paddle, seized one of the 
antlers, and with his knife cut the deer's throat. 
Then he dragged the carcass into the canoe. 



224 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Jan. 



" T'ank de Lord, massa, here am breakfast 
and dinner ! " was Shanti's exclamation. 

" That is good indeed," Guy said. " How 
was it that you happened to see him ? " 

" Shanti went down to the bank to get a 
drink, massa. Just as he stooped he hear a 




THE CANOE FLEW ALONG, AND OVERTOOK THE STAG. 



rustle in de bushes. He keep bery still; den he 
see a stag come out fifty yards away, and stop 
to drink. Me would have run to canoe and 
got pistol, but remembered what massa said, 
and me bite my teeth to t'ink ob all dat good 
meat, and not able to get um. Den me saw 
stag going to cross river; den me ran and 
woke yo' up. We go back and land ? " 

" No, Shanti ; we will paddle two or three 



miles down the river first. The redskins might 
reach the bank before we have finished break- 
fast, and might swim across when we camp 
to-night. It is better to throw them off the 
track altogether. When they come here and 
see no signs of us, they will most likely give 

up the search ; 
for we might, 
for all they 
can tell, have 
paddled all 
night, and by 
this time be 
forty miles 
away." 

The negro 
made no re- 
ply, but it was 
evident from 
the vigor with 
which he at 
once began 
to paddle that 
he was deter- 
mined to get 
his breakfast 
as soon as 
possible. In 
half an hour 
they landed, 
carried up the 
canoe, and 
then set about 
collecting per- 
fectly dry 
sticks ; for 
when hunting 
with Ponta, 
Guy had been 
taught that 
the Indians 
always burn dried wood, so that no smoke, that 
might betray them to an enemy on some dis- 
tant eminence, should issue through the tree- 
tops. As soon as sufficient was collected, 
dry moss and lichen were gathered, and Guy 
drew the charge from one of his pistols, 
scattered a portion of the powder among the 
moss, and then, renewing the priming, flashed 
the pistol into it. A flame at once sprang up. 



iBgg.] 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



225 



Small twigs were laid over it, and then larger 
ones, until a bright, smokeless fire was obtained. 
While he was doing this, Shanti had skinned 
the deer, cut slices of meat from one of the 
haunches, and spitted them on the ramrod of 
his pistol. As soon as the fire was well alight, 
he got two stones, and placed them on the fire 
at a distance apart that would permit the ends 
of the ramrod to rest upon them. Then he 
filled the other rod with meat, in readiness to 
take its place as soon as the first batch was 
cooked. 

" Where are you going ? " Guy asked, as he 
turned and walked abruptly away. 

" Me going out ob reach ob him smell, massa; 
if stop here, must eat him before he is ready. 
Pity to do dat." 

Guy laughed; but he himself was experien- 
cing the same feeling, and it was not long be- 
fore he called the negro to him. It could 
not be said that the food was well done, but 
they enjoyed it thoroughly, and were able to 
wait patiently until the second supply was 
well cooked. As soon as the meal was over, 
they hid the canoe very securely, and then 
started through the forest to look for a tree 
the wood of which Indians use for their bows. 
It was not long before they found one of the 
right age, and, cutting it down, Shanti hewed 
off a piece six feet long. Next they cut some 
wood suitable for arrows, having a straight 
grain and splitting easily, and then returned to 
their fire. As the negro was far more skilled 
at bow-making than Guy, the latter left the mat- 
ter to him, and, as he worked, sat apparently 
idle, but really thinking deeply. 

" It all seems so uncertain," he said at last. 
" We know that the Tuscaroras who inhabit the 
country through which we shall pass, although 
at present good friends with those of Virginia, 
have often been engaged in fierce wars with 
them ; but I fancy that some of them must have 
joined in the uprising. If that was the case, we 
are not likely to meet with mercy if we fall into 
their hands on our way down to the sea; there- 
fore we must take every precaution, and travel 
at night and hide during the day. 

" I have heard that the journey by this river 
is twice as long as it is by the James down 
to the sea; so it will take us a week, at least. 
Vol. XXVI.— 29. 



Once near the mouth of the river, the danger 
from the Indians will be comparatively small. 
Ponta described the swamps as being terrible, 
inhabited by fierce monsters and great snakes, 
and declared that few Indians would ven- 
ture into them in search of game, although 
they abounded with wild-fowl. He said that 
there were great ponds, or lakes, among the 
swamps, and that everywhere there were little 
creeks and water- courses that could be traversed 
by canoes; that the ground in most places was 
so swampy that a man who placed his foot on it 
would sink down out of sight, but that in some 
places the ground was higher, and that here 
men who had for some offenses been expelled 
from their tribes, or who had drawn upon them- 
selves the vengeance of some powerful chief, 
would build huts, and live by fishing and fowl- 
ing until their friends could make terms for 
them by payment in skins and other things 
prized among them." 

" Does de sea eber go ober dis low ground, 
Marse Guy ? " 

" No ; great seas do not break on that part 
of the coast. Our people have sailed along it, 
and I heard from my father that there is, some 
miles farther out, a narrow strip of land. It 
starts a short distance south of Cape Henry, 
which is at the mouth of the bay into which 
the James runs ; it extends south one hundred 
and fifty miles, or thereabouts, to a cape called 
Hatteras, and then southwest over a hundred 
miles. At some points this strip of land is 
twenty or thirty miles from the shore of the 
mainland, at others not more than three or 
four miles. There are several islands in the 
inclosed water, and there are two or three 
points where there is a break in the barrier. 
Farther on there is another reef of the same 
kind, but much closer to the land. My father 
said that fishermen sometimes established them- 
selves on these strange sandy islands, catching 
and drying fish. When they had a boat-load 
they took it to Jamestown or sold it to the 
settlers near the river. Our best chance of 
escape is to find some of these fishermen; but it 
may well be that when they get news of the 
destruction of the settlers in Virginia, they will 
leave the place, and hide somewhere near the 
mouth of Chesapeake Bay, so as to row out and 



226 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Jan. 



warn any ship that may arrive, and secure a 
passage in her back to England. Still, we may 
hope that some will remain, hoping that when 
ithe news reaches England reinforcements will 
be sent out." 

" How do dey get water, massa ? " 
" I have no idea. In fact, I know no more 
than you do about them. Anyhow, I think 



" Me suppose the creatures must be like dose 
in de rivers ob my own country, sah." 

" What are they like, Shanti ? " 

" Dey are long, and covered all ober with 
thick scales dat cannot be pierced by spear or 
arrow. Dey have big, big mouths, full ob 
teeth; dey have short legs, and a long tail. 
Dey are bery like de little lizards dat run 




MESSENGERS WERE SENT TO WARN THE SETTLERS OF THE INDIAN UPRISING. 



that our best chance will be to establish our- 
selves on some ground high enough to be dry 
in one of these great swamps. As for the mon- 
sters that they talk about, it is hard if, with our 
pistols, arrows, sword, and ax, we cannot defend 
ourselves. There are sure to be some sorts of 
beasts that one can eat — bears, for instance; 
and we are sure to be able to catch fish or 
snare wild-fowl. At any rate, I would rather have 
a battle with wild beasts than with redskins." 



about on de walls and banks, but twenty, 
thirty feet long." 

" Well, I should not feel very comfortable in 
our little canoe, if a brute like that were to lift 
his head out of the water close to us; and I 
should certainly like a boat that was stronger 
or more solid. There are many such creatures 
lurking everywhere in the swamps here. By 
the way, Shanti, I don't see why you carry 
that big feather head-dress about." 



9-] 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



227 



" No take up much room, sah ; might be 
useful. If we paddle along one dark night, 
and Indian canoe pass by, dey just make out 
Shanti paddling with dese plumes on his head ; 
too dark to see him black man; dey t'ink he 
chief." 

" They would soon find you out when they 
spoke to you," said Guy, laughing. 

" Yes, marse ; but me know that de redskins 
not talk much to each other. Two white men 
meet on path, dey stop and talk; two redskins 



meet, dey walk straight past each oder — per- 
haps give grunt, perhaps not. But if dey speak, 
me say nothing ; and den if dey paddle close to 
see who can be, den me shoot arrow into dem, 
or knock dem on head with paddle, and get 
rid ob dem." 

Guy smiled at this. " It all sounds very 
nice and easy, but I am afraid that it might 
not go off as smoothly as you think. However, 
Shanti, keep your head-dress of feathers, any- 
how; they may prove useful." 



( To be continued. ) 



"BIG JACK." 



By Gabrielle E. Jackson. 



I wonder how many of the little people in 
New York City who read this magazine have 
ever heard of " Big Jack " ? Not many, I fancy ; 
and yet Big Jack is quite an important charac- 
ter, and holds a very responsible position, which 
he fills with much dignity as well as credit to 
himself, and satisfaction to his employers. 

His headquarters are at Broadway and 
Twenty-Second Street, where he can usually be 
found at about ten o'clock in the morning, and 
from that hour, off and on, until about 5 p. m. 
In the intervals his business affairs call him to 
various parts of the city, but, being extremely 
methodical in his habits, he is usually at his 
office about hnch-time. 

You may be somewhat surprised to learn that 
he is strictly a vegetarian, confining his diet 
solely to cereals or fruit, with occasionally a few 
lumps of sugar. He should have been a Scotch- 
man, judging by his fondness for oats, but he 
was born, I am told, in our own country. 

Possibly his love for oats may account for 
his beautiful complexion, which is snowy white, 
with just a suggestion of pink showing through 
and telling of the warm, rich blood flowing un- 
derneath. 

I first became acquainted with Jack about 
five years ago. Indeed, I must confess that we 
scraped acquaintance. It came about in this 



manner. I was standing with my little daugh- 
ter upon the corner of Broadway and Twenty- 
second Street, waiting for an uptown car, when 
I became aware that we were being very closely 
regarded by a pair of unusually large and ex- 
tremely beautiful brown eyes — eyes which were 
very eloquent, and seemed to say much more 
plainly than words could have done : " I am very 
favorably impressed with that little girl, and I 
should like to know her. Will she speak to me, 
do you think ? " 

I called the little girl's attention to the big 
eyes looking at her so steadfastly, and, do you 
know, I believe she understood their language 
even better than I did, and yet I flatter myself 
that I am a pretty good interpreter of such 
glances. At any rate, she walked straight up to 
their owner and said : " Why do you look at 
me that-a-way ? I just guess you know I keep 
lumps of sugar in my pocket to give to great, big 
lovely horses like you ! " 

Slowly a great white head with the most in- 
telligent eyes I have ever seen was lowered to' 
a level with the little maid's face, and two or 
three queer, sidling steps taken to bring it closer 
to the outstretched arms. The owner seemed 
to realize that those little arms never gave any 
save the tenderest caresses, and he was very 
glad to feel one circle around his huge, soft 



228 



BIG JACK. 



[Jan. 



neck, while the other carried a small hand to 
stroke a very silky muzzle, for Big Jack is a 
horse among horses. And big, indeed, he is — 
a giant of his kind. 

There is nothing small about Jack either in 
his make-up or his manners. His head is mas- 
sive, but magnificently formed, with thin, sensi- 
tive nostrils, wide-awake eyes placed widely 
apart, small, alert ears which point forward, or 



keenly on them, not many have the hardihood 
to push matters too far. 

Big Jack has hosts of friends, who always 
have a kind word for him, and a day rarely 
passes without some one bringing him a dainty 
of some sort. 

His driver carries him an apple every morn- 
ing when he goes to the stable to take him out 
for his day's work, and Jack knows exactly the 




"THERE IS NOTHING SMALL ABOUT JACK EITHER IN HIS MAKE-UP OR HIS MANNERS." 



occasionally one is turned back as though to 
listen round the corner for the sound of a 
familiar voice, or a kindly word from his driver, 
who is justly proud of the big white creature. 

And such a neck ! I would not dare venture 
a guess as to the size of collar Jack wears, for 
the great neck arches up to a crest that is truly 
noble. 

But his eyes tell more of his noble nature 
than all the rest of the head together ; they are 
so big, so soft, so brown, and so eloquent. With 
them he talks to you, expressing by them love, 
kindness, expectancy, joy, and — sometimes — 
make-believe anger, for Jack is rarely angry 
in earnest. 

But he resents the slightest approach to teas- 
ing by flashing his big eyes at his tormentor, and 
after they have seen the sharp eyes turned so 



hour to expect him, and the instant his foot- 
fall is heard, greets him with a loud whinny. 

After Jack has enjoyed his apple, his master 
lets him out of his stall, and that is Jack's op- 
portunity for a frolic. He prances about like a 
young colt until told to " go along and get his 
drink," when he at once marches off to the 
water-trough and proceeds to drink up a few 
gallons. A good breakfast follows, and then he 
puts himself in position to be harnessed, gets 
into his shafts, and is ready for business. He 
knows exactly what is expected of him, and 
trots straight to the express office at Twenty- 
second Street and Broadway. 

Jack does not move rapidly; it is not com- 
patible with his size and dignity to do so, for 
he seems to realize his importance and to 
understand how utterly impossible it would be 



BIG JACK. 



229 




"the big, soft head comes down." 

for the company to conduct the express busi- 
ness without Jack's valuable assistance. 

In front of his office, Jack is king, and woe 
to any other horse who tries to usurp his special 
post. He knows precisely how that wagon 
should be backed in to the sidewalk to receive 
its daily load, and does not rest until he has 
brought it precisely to the proper position. 




Then he settles down for a nap, and no one 
would imagine that the big white horse stand- 
ing there with his head hanging down and eyes 
partly closed had half an ounce of sense in his 
great head. But stand aside for a few moments 
and watch him. Presently you see one ear 
turned slowly backward for apparently no 
cause at all. But Jack knows more than you 
do, and 'that ear is sharp, and has heard the 
patter of familiar feet and the sound of a sweet 
little voice. He cannot see behind him because, 
long ago, some stupid man, who thought he 
knew more about horses' needs and natures 
than He who created them, decreed that they 
must wear a great patch of leather on each 




'NOW, JACK, WE MUST SHAKE HANDS.'' 



"A FEW MORE LOVING PATS UPON THE DEAR OLD NOSE." 

side of their heads in order that they may not 
know what is happening behind them ; and 
blinders they are indeed. 

But he did not stop up their ears, and Jack 
has that to be thankful for. 

That pretty ear has heard a voice it recog- 
nizes, and when it has told its possessor that the 
owner of that voice is near enough to be seen, 
slowly the great head is raised and turned the 
least little bit to the right side, and the eyes, 
but a moment since so dull and sleepy, — so 
oblivious of surrounding affairs, — begin to 
beam with a wonderful softness. 

Now comes dancing along a little girl about 



230 



BIG JACK. 



[Jan. 



four years of age, with brown curls waving 
and brown eyes sparkling. A little girl who 
7iever walks; she skips and she prances, she 
jumps and she dances, as she holds her mother's 
hand, and, I had better add, she chatters inces- 
santly. 

No wonder Jack has heard her. She comes 
up from behind him very quietly and says softly, 
" Good morning, dear old Jack ! " 

Jack hitches a step or two closer to the side- 
walk and waits; for Jack is a sly old fellow, 
and he knows it would never do to turn too 
quickly, and so spoil this pleasant little game of 
peek-a-boo. 

" Who loves sugar, and how many lumps 
have I in my pocket for somebody ? " 

The word " sugar" has broken the charm, and 
Jack can no longer resist. The big, soft head 
comes down to the little girl's outstretched arms 
and snuggles close up to her — so close that 
one passing by stops to say, " Oh, that horse 
will surely hurt that child." 

But Big Jack and Wee Winkles understand 
each other too well, and the great creature's 
gentleness is a very beautiful lesson. 

" Now, Jack," she continues, " before we can 
have any sugar we must shake hands." 

Hardly are the words uttered when up comes 
a monstrous right foot, which two small hands 
grasp at the slender ankle; for to hold the hoof 
itself would be somewhat like trying to hold 
half a ton. 

" That 's a dear horse. Now, find the but- 
tons on my coat, — a lump of sugar for each 
button, you know." 

Very gently the soft muzzle travels up the 
front of the little coat, and a sly nip is 
given to the top button. The reward is in- 
stantly given, and crunched with a relish. Be- 
fore it has had time to slip down the huge 
throat, Jack has found the second button, and 
won his second lump. Four buttons in all, 
and four lumps of sugar. 

A few more loving pats upon the dear old 
nose, the assurance that she " loves him dearly, 
dearly" and Wee Winkles prances away up 
Broadway to Madison Square for her morning 
airing, while Jack watches her until she is lost 
in the throng. 

Nearly every day, during the winter months 



in town for almost two years, Jack was visited, 
and no matter how long a time elapsed during 
the summer, when his little friend was out of 
town, Jack never forgot her, but upon her re- 
turn showed his delight in every possible way. 

But at length came a long separation, for 
the little girl moved far away uptown, where 
she lived for two years, and then moved to the 
country, and Big Jack was seen no longer. We 
often wondered whether he missed his morning 
visitor and lumps of sugar, but concluded that 
several other children, who knew and loved 
him, would doubtless remember him. Not only 
children love Jack, but grown people find 
something very fascinating in the great crea- 
ture, who is by turns affectionate or mischie- 
vous, and seems to act toward his friends with 
remarkable discrimination, showing to some 
all that is gentlest and sweetest — and this usu- 
ally to the little people — ■ in his disposition, 
and to others his mischief. 

To see Jack dissemble is too funny for words 
to express. He will pretend he does not know 
a friend is near him until that friend slips his 
hand into his pocket for the apple or sugar 
which Jack knows all the time is there. Then 
he will turn his head slowly, very slowly, to- 
ward the individual, who may have been stand- 
ing there for the past two minutes, — time is of 
no value to Jack, — then a quiet, scarcely per- 
ceptible change in the position of the ears, a 
surprised opening of the eyes, as though to say : 
" Why, really, are you there ? I am surprised ! 
I had no idea that you were within half a mile. 
So pleased to see you ! " 

Then the sweet morsel is accepted in the 
most gracious manner imaginable, as though 
his lordship were conferring a great favor by 
condescending to accept the attention. 

And now I must tell you something which 
seems almost too wonderful to be true. After 
a lapse of five years, we can tell a tale of Jack's 
intelligence which is truly extraordinary, and 
which proves conclusively, if, indeed, the fact 
ever could be doubted, that our dumb friend 
has a memory which some of his two-footed 
friends might envy. 

Not long since his little friend, now grown 
quite a large girl of nine years, went with 



iSQ9-J 



BIG JACK. 



231 



her mother to the city to do some shopping, 
and, turning into Twenty-second Street from 
Sixth Avenue, the first object which met her 
eyes was Big Jack standing in front of one of 
the shops. 

Although five years have passed over Jack's 
head since we first met him, — and that is quite 
a number as horses' lives are counted, — they 
have dealt very gently with him, and he is but 
little changed. Not quite so sleek, perhaps, and 
not so kittenish, for Jack has worked hard and 
steadily all these years, and work tells even 
upon the strongest horses ; but the same old 
Jack stood before us, and could not be mis- 
taken. 

We were behind him, and his blinders pre- 
vented him from seeing us. 

"Oh, mama," said his little friend, "do you 
think he will remember me if I speak to him ? 
How I wish we had some sugar for the dear 
old fellow ! " 

I replied that we would step into a store 
close at hand and get a few lumps, and then we 
would test Jack's memory. We soon had our 
sugar, and Wee Winkles — no longer " wee " — 
walked up from behind him as of old, and said 
in the voice which Jack had not heard for 
nearly four years, and which naturally must 
have changed considerably in that interval : 
" Good morning, dear old Jack ! " To my great 
astonishment, the recognition was instan- 
taneous. Quick as a flash the great head was 
turned; and not only that, but a soft whinny 
told of the dear old fellow's joy, as did also the 
quick snuggling down to the outstretched arms. 

No one could possibly doubt these demon- 
strations of delight; and when they were fol- 
lowed by the voluntary upraising of the huge 
fore foot, as of old, for the — what shall I say — 
foot-shake ? his little friend's joy knew no 
bounds. 

" Oh, mama, mama," she cried, " did you 
ever know anything so wonderful ? " 

I replied that it was indeed very remarkable, 
and added, " Can it be possible that he has re- 
membered all the tricks ? Ask him about the 
s-u-g-a-r " — spelling the word lest the sound 
might recall the trick of the buttons. 

" Who loves sugar, and how many lumps 
have I in my pocket for somebody ? " 



But, alas ! fashions have changed in four 
years, and some coats have no buttons at all. 
In vain poor Jack felt about for the top button, 
then a little lower for where number two 
should have been found, then at the other side 
for three and four, but no buttons were there; 
and Jack, utterly disgusted, manifested it by 
shaking his head and stamping his foot. His 
surprise was absurdly funny, and if he could 
have spoken I believe he would have said with 
withering scorn : " Well, if / were in your place 
I 'd go straight home and sew on my buttons 1 " 

Jack, however, got his four lumps despite the 
fashions, and was a very happy horse. 

It is perhaps rather difficult to believe this 
little tale, but it is absolutely true from begin- 
ning to end, and has been written in order to 
give the little people who reside in that section 
of New York and who read this magazine, — 
for doubtless there are many, — an opportunity 
to see and know Big Jack, for I do assure you 
he is well worth seeing and knowing. 

There are, I dare say, a great many very 
clever and very beautiful horses in our big city. 
Indeed, Wee Winkles and I know several our- 
selves. " Billy Borden," for instance, who 
knows his milk route so well that his driver has 
only to say, "8 West 66th, Billy," or "9 West 
65th, Billy," to have him go at once to these 
addresses, or any other with which he is fa- 
miliar. Again, he will say : " No milk here to- 
day, Billy," and Billy jogs on. 

Then there is " Dan Sorrel," who draws the 
milk-wagon which takes the milk to Central 
Park Dairy every morning. His driver often 
amuses the children who gather about his pet 
by saying : 

" Now, Dan, I believe you are a Democrat." 

"No! " shakes the head. 

" What ! a Republican ? " 

" Yes, yes, yes ! " and a stamping of both 
front feet, while the tail is slashed about like a 
banner to emphasize his sentiments. 

Dan is great fun. Nor must we forget our 
old pet " Jingo " of the mounted policemen's 
horses ; for he was truly wonderful, and I might 
go on almost endlessly telling of his remarkable 
sagacity and cleverness. 

Jingo and Wee Winkles were warm friends, 
for Winkles spent two winters in a home very 



232 



BIG JACK. 



near the West Seventy-second Street entrance 
to the park, and each sunshiny day carried her 
lump of sugar to Jingo, who would perform all 
sorts of tricks in order to win his reward. He 
would waltz, go down upon his knees, shake 
hands, fetch a pocket-handkerchief which she 
made believe she had dropped, whisper in his 
rider's ear, and do many things besides. 

It is a never-ending source of surprise to me 
that so few people seem to understand the won- 
derful intelligence of horses, or the marvelous 
possibilities in developing that intelligence. 

All my life I have either had horses of my 
own or been so fortunately situated that I 
might make the acquaintance of those belong- 
ing to others. I use the word " acquaintance " 
advisedly, for one must become acquainted, 
must be in sympathy with them, before they 
will show the best side of their horse natures. 

I have frequently stopped in the street beside 
a horse who looked as though life had been a 
hard struggle for him, and whose every line of 
face and attitude showed a stolid endurance of 
the inevitable, as if fate had settled his lot be- 
yond all power to change, and nothing remained 
but to endure and wait until death put an end 
to it all. After standing for a few moments un- 
noticed, — as though the poor creature were 
thinking within itself, " She is only one more, 
like all the rest, and will either pass on and take 
no notice of me, or say, ' Get out of the way, 
you brute,'" — I would say softly, but without 
moving, " Come here, old fellow." 

At first there would not be the slightest re- 
sponse, save, perhaps, the slight turn of an ear ; 
but upon repeating it two or three times in 
exactly the same tone, the head would turn 
slowly toward me, and a look of surprise would 
come into the tired eyes, as though a gentle 
word were a thing before unknown. 

At the third repetition I have rarely failed to 
have the poor old nose stretched out toward 
me for a gentle stroke, and the neck thus 
brought within reach of a kind pat. 

Not infrequently have I had the owner of 
some such unfortunate say to me, "Hi, there! 
Look out ! That horse '11 bite ye ! " and have 
replied, " Oh, I think not ; watch him a mo- 
ment, and see if I am not right." 



I well recall one such instance, when I went 
up to intercede for a poor beast that was being 
cruelly lashed because it could not draw a load 
which was far beyond its strength. 

I begged the driver to desist, which, I add 
to his credit, he did at once, getting down off 
his cart, whip in hand. As he did so I went 
up to the poor creature's head, and was greeted 
with a series of snaps and plunges, as though 
his tormentors had driven him nearly wild. 
"Don't go within tin feet av the baste!" ex- 
claimed the man. " He '11 have the head off 
yer." 

" I hardly think so," I said, and kept straight 
on, speaking softly and kindly to the trembling 
creature, while I reached out to take him by the 
rein. 

Up flew the head as if to avoid a blow, tell- 
ing all too eloquently how often the poor muz- 
zle had smarted from one. 

But dear Mother Nature is kind, and has en- 
dowed her dumb creatures with wonderful dis- 
cerning powers ; so not many minutes had passed 
before the poor tired head was nestled close to 
me, and soft strokes and gentle words seemed to 
act as a sedative upon nerves which were utterly 
unstrung. 

The man stood by open-mouthed. " Well, 
be all the powers ! " said he ; " the likes av that 
niver did I see in all me born days. I thought 
the baste would ate the very handle off me 
shovel ! " 

" He is better than you thought, is he not ? " 

" Faith, I believe ye 've bewitched him," he 
answered. 

"Yes," I said, " I have; but you can bewitch 
him in the same way if you will only try it. I 
wish you would." 

All this is a long way from Big Jack, and we 
must not forget our chief character in our sym- 
pathies for his less fortunate kindred. 

But I want the little people who read this to 
realize how much that is lovable and beautiful 
dear Mother Nature has put right in our daily 
paths, if we will only raise our eyes to see and 
our voices to win it ; for surely it cannot fail to 
help us by developing all that is best and love- 
liest in ourselves. 



:i CHRISTMAS 







Ten Christmas presents standing in a line; 
Robert took the bicycle, then there were 

nine. 
Nine Christmas presents ranged in order 

straight; 
Bob took the steam-engine, then .there were 

eight. 
Eight Christmas presents — and one came 

from Devon ; 
Robbie took the jack-knife, then there were 

seven. 




IFTS 



m 



■to *- 




W 

i 



St ^£ 






w.. 



Seven Christmas presents direct from St. 

Nick's ; 
Bobby took the candy-box, then there were six. 
Six Christmas presents, one of them alive ; 
Rob took the puppy-dog, then there were five. 
Five Christmas presents yet on the floor ; 
Bobbin took the soldier-cap, then there were 

four. 
Four Christmas presents underneath the tree ; 
Bobbet took the writing-desk, then there were 

three. 

Vol. XXVI.— ;o. 2 



Three Christmas presents still in full view; 
Robin took the checker-board, then there 

were two. 
Two Christmas presents, promising fun, 
Bobbles took the picture-book, then there 

was one. 
One Christmas present — and now the list is 

done ; 
Bobbinet took the sled, and then there were none. 
And the same happy child received every toy, 
So many nicknames had one little boy. 

Carolyn Wells. 




'4 !M 



f^MlM 






£f>e 

ite(6 of i£e 
rtet&of ^ 




y 



Even the cardinal was satisfied. He stood 
before the old castle of Guisnes, and surveyed 
the plain between Guisnes and Ardres. It had 
been bare and desolate, but his genius had 
transformed it into a veritable fairy-land. He 
felt that its beauty made it worthy of the event 
it was to commemorate — the meeting of Henry 
VIII., King of England, and Francis I., King 
of France. 

It was Wolsey, the cardinal, who had ad- 
vised his royal master to meet Francis in all 
good fellowship ; he feared the influence of the 
Spanish, and wished Henry to form an alliance 
with France. 

The French king, too, was anxious to secure 
Henry as an ally, and the Plain of Guisnes had 
been agreed upon as the place of meeting ; it 
was close to the French frontier, but on Eng- 
lish ground. 

Henry had consented to cross the Channel, 
and his prime minister, Wolsey, had arranged 
all the details of the journey and the meeting. 

The king's retinue had been selected from 
the noblest of the kingdom. Wolsey, with his 
three hundred followers, headed the escort, and 



was followed by dukes, earls, barons, bishops, 
and knights, with their retainers. The escort 
numbered four thousand horsemen, not includ- 
ing the queen's escort, numbering nearly two 
thousand persons and eight hundred horses. 

The French king had an equally splendid 
retinue. 

King Henry and his great cavalcade were 
taken, on arrival at Guisnes, to the magnificent 
palace provided by Wolsey. There was an 
old palace there, and Wolsey had established 
himself in that, and erected a new one for his 
king. This palace was the most beautiful place 
imaginable ; it had so many glazed windows 
that it looked as though built of crystal, and 
much of the woodwork, both inside and out, 
was covered with gold. All the way from the 
gate to the door were rows of silver statues. 
Inside, the walls of the chambers and halls 
were hung with magnificent tapestry embroid- 
ered in gold, and the ceilings were draped 
with white silk. 

But Henry was not to spend all of his time 
in his fine palace, for tents had been erected on 
the plain, and in these the two kings and their 
suites were to lodge. 

The tents of the French king were pitched 
just outside the walls of the town of Ardres, and 
extended almost to the tents of King Henry. 

The tents in which the two queens were 



2 34 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 



2 35 



lodged were covered with cloth of gold, as 
were also the tents of the ladies in attendance 
upon them, and of all members of the royal 
families. The effect was dazzling. 

Beautiful pavilions, hung with cloth of gold, 
dotted the plain ; banners floated everywhere ; 
fountains of wine spouted in the bright June 
sunshine; horses, decorated with fluttering rib- 
bons, pranced about gaily. 

So gorgeous had the dreary plain been made 
that it has become known in history as the 
" Field of the Cloth of Gold." 

Cardinal Wolsey was very fond of splendor 
and pomp, and on this occasion had exerted 
all his powers. 

He was quite satisfied with the result, and, 
after looking about carefully to see that all was 
in readiness, he gathered together his large 
retinue of noblemen, and in stately procession 
they rode across the field to pay the respects 
of Henry to Francis. 

One hundred noblemen mounted on horses 
whose trappings were of red velvet rode first. 
After them came the bearer of a huge gold 
cross and a crucifix of precious stones. Then 
came the haughty cardinal, dressed in crimson 
velvet and wearing his red hat. His horse had 
trappings of crimson velvet, and the stirrups and 
buckles were of gold. Behind him were six 
bishops, and then a hundred of the king's arch- 
ers with their great yew bows and keen arrows. 

This grand procession rode to the French 
tents near the town of Ardres, where it was 
saluted by the French artillery. At the tent of 
King Francis, Wolsey dismounted, and pre- 
sented the regards of his master to the King 
of France. Then he returned to the English 
camp, and the following day Francis sent one 
of his nobles to return the ceremonious visit in 
similar state. 

The French noble and his followers were 
royally treated by the English, and "feasted 
marvelously," which is not to be wondered at, 
as the English had brought with them two 
hundred cooks. 

It was on June 7, 1520, that the meeting of 
the sovereigns took place, and, amid the 
roar of saluting guns, they rode forth, each 
accompanied by a brilliant retinue similar to 
that of the cardinal: indeed, even the follow- 



ing of the greatest monarch could hardly be 
more gorgeous than Wolsey's. 

The King of England was magnificent, at- 
tired in cloth of silver set with jewels ; and his 
horse had golden trappings. The King of 
France was equally dazzling in cloth of gold. 

When they met, they dismounted, embraced 
each other, and went into a beautiful pavilion 
to confer together. Their retainers kept guard 
outside until they reappeared, and then great 
revelry followed. 

Day after day the good fellowship continued 
between the kings and their followers. Henry 
called on the Queen of France, and a splendid 
banquet was given in his honor, in which all 
the queen's ladies were dressed in cloth of gold. 
On the same day, Francis was entertained with 
equal splendor by the Queen of England. Oc- 
casionally, during these days of good cheer, a 
tournament was held, in which, each accom- 
panied by twenty nobles, the two kings engaged 
in combat against any who dared to meet them. 
But only blunt lances were used, so no injury 
could be inflicted. 

When no tournament was being held, the 
kings' soldiers gave exhibitions of their strength 
and skill in running, jumping, wrestling, or riding. 
These exhibitions Henry and Francis always at- 
tended, and the two queens, with their ladies, fre- 
quently watched the sports through the glazed 
windows of the long galleries erected for them. 

A French captain, by way of amusing him- 
self, collected all the boys of the neighboring 
towns, and formed them into a company, which 
he drilled every day. They were bright young- 
sters, and greatly enjoyed being drilled by a 
real soldier. 

One day King Francis heard of this new 
company of his subjects, and expressed a desire 
to witness its tactics. Accordingly, preparations 
were made; bright new helmets and lances 
were provided for the young soldiers, and a 
new French flag obtained. 

When the eventful day came, the kings, 
queens, and all the splendid retinue watched 
the drilling of the proud little Frenchmen, who 
went through with it very creditably and were 
highly applauded. 

Then King Francis wished to test their 
bravery, and, at his request, King Henry's 



236 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 



[Jan. 



archers, two hundred in number, and all of 
whom had been selected on account of height 
and strength, were placed at the top of a hill; 
and up that hill, facing the mighty archers, the 
company of boys was ordered. 

They were armed with blunted lances, and 
they did not know that the king's archers had 
been instructed to send their arrows so far over 
the heads of the boys as to avoid all chance 
of hurting them. 

Great guns were placed on the hilltop, to 
bewilder and terrify the young soldiers. It 
was a severe test of bravery. When the order 
came to advance and take possession of the 
hill, the captain who had drilled the boys 
placed the flag of France in the hands of a 
young peasant, Victor Bacheaux, with the com- 
mand, " This is your king's flag; guard it with 
your life ! " 

Victor Bacheaux, proud as boy could be, 
stepped quickly to the front, holding the flag 
gallantly aloft. 

" Go, now," the captain said very impressively 
to his company of eager boys, " and never look 
back ; do not forget — never look back / " 



Then the boy in command gave the order, 
and the gay little band marched straight to the 
hill and began the long ascent. 

Then the guns began to roar, and the arch- 
ers sent their arrows forth. Still the boys kept 
on ; they were half-way up the hill. The people 
in the field below were shouting and cheering; 
but in front of them were those mighty archers 
whose arrows were flying thick and fast. 

Suddenly a panic came upon the little 
Frenchmen — .such a panic as has come upon 
many and many an army, in many a war. 

Down the hill they ran in panic terror — an 
inglorious retreat. 

But Victor Bacheaux still carried the flag 
straight in the face of the enemy. He heard 
the mad rush behind him, and knew his com- 
panions had deserted him; but he did not turn 
his head. " Never look back," the captain had 
said. 

On and still on he went, holding the dear 
flag steadily before him. He was unarmed, 
defenseless. And, oh, how loudly the guns 
boomed, and how fearful was that grim line 
of archers and terrible the twanging of bows ! 



\^mmmmm 



mm. tm 




Vvf7 / ;>$£' 



" THE GAY LITTLE BAND BEGAN THE LONG ASCENT." 



The cheer- 
ing in the field 
below became 
frantic ; shout 
after shout rent 
the air around ; 
but Victor Ba- 
cheaux heard only the guns of his enemy — 
saw only the dreaded English archers. 

He kept repeating the captain's parting 
words — "Your king's flag," and "Guard it 
with your life ! " He would not disgrace 
his king; he would carry his flag to the 
top ; and for one exultant moment he re- 
membered that the eyes of his king were 
upon him. But he was getting close to 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 



2 37 




"ON and still on he went, holding the flag steadily before him 



those terrible archers, and he was marching 
bravely, steadily, to what he believed to be his 
death, when, to his intense surprise, the archers 
ceased shooting, and rushed toward him. He 
stood quite still, and held the flag higher than 
ever. " Vive la France / " he cried defiantly. 

And the English archers, too, shouted, " Long 
live France ! " as they caught up the little 



Frenchman and held him high for the field 
below to see. 

Great was the cheering. The bravery of the 
little lad touched all hearts; and that day it 
was not the mighty King of England, nor the 
resplendent King of France, but Victor Ba- 
cheaux, the peasant, Who had shown himself 
the hero of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. 




ONE CHRISTMAS EVE AT MASTER MUFFET'S 



By Alice Maude Ewell. 





IlllliiliIISIlliill»®« 






MH 


jp|i&£§j 






A ^-lH 


M^*^^] 






•il 


fll^-r^i! 


/^Sms^? 




w^2T f"' ^^i 


v^ni| 




*\^*rf»' 


IP-AMI 






*i '"lfllfl 


Wa-jR^i 




HIIWMti ' 




m^fMm 








|M 






lllg 


iw 




llJimmmmlm^ 




mm 


WD5 ^ m^ 



Y wife Patsey is 
a well-meaning 
woman as any 
in Virginia, an' 
that I '11 never 
deny; still, she 
hath her faults, 
neighbors, as 
who hath not 
in this mortal 
world ? Ever 
since we were 
wed I 've been a-trying to correct 'em ; but will 
womankind be so corrected by man alive ? 

My Patsey's main fault hath ever been a 
kind of wastefulness in housewifely spending. 
Nobody can say that Thomas Muffet is 
one to keep an' hoard. I am for doing 
the right thing at the right time, by 
mouth an' back; yet too much feasting 
one day will make too much fasting 
the next. " Woman," quoth I, a-many 
a time, " Patsey, woman, we shall be 
eaten out of house an' home with thy 
continual good cookery." To be sure, I 
did my best at the eating, an' thanked 
Heaven for my good digestion, since 
when all was cooked an' served on table, 
I bethought me 't was better eaten than 
left ever. "Wilful waste maketh woeful 
want," would I say, forever falling to ; 
for if good pease- porridge will fill you up 
comfortingly, is it not waste to choose 
mince-pie instead, at good ten times the 
cost on 't ? 

Now, as to my giving in as I did that 
Christmas-time, — aye, after putting my 
foot down to the contrary, — as to that, 
I 've never been quite cock-sure in my 
mind, neighbors, concerning the right or 
the wrong on 't. Be that as may, I could 
no more ha' holpen it, with that woman 
an' those children a-going on so, than I 
can help dying when my natural time 



comes. Certain, that was the merriest Christ- 
mas that ever we did spend. 

Of all the times that a year round will fetch, 
I do know that Christmas is counted the brav- 
est for good eating and all merrymaking. 
Whiles have I heard my gran'father tell of 
the Christmas good cheer in old England in 's 
young days; an' truly their eating an' their 
drinking, their singing o' carols, an' such like, 
their playing an' their pranking, would be 
something worth to hear an' tell again. W"e 've 
no such doings here in Virginia, to be sure, 
yet everybody will find you a feast, for white 
folk an' black, an' red, too, at Christmas. 
Maybe some o' you will be calling me a sorry 
churl to say nay in the first place. Judge for 




MY WIFE PATSEY IS A WELL-MEANING WOMAN AS ANY IN VIRGINIA. 



ONE CHRISTMAS EVE AT MASTER MUFFET S. 



239 



yourselves. 'T was a mighty bad humor I was 
in that while, an' that 's past denying; an' my 
spirit 't was heavy an' my purse 't was mon- 
strous light. Ye see, I 'd had a vast many 
losses an' crosses that year, an' what with the 
o'er high price of this thing an' the o'er-low 
price of that, why, the money came slowly in. 
I had barely made shift to pay for the young 
ones' shoes an' winter rigging when they all 
'gan to talk concerning Christmas. 

Now, when Patseyan' the youngsters 'gan to 
talk o' their plum-pudding an' their mince-pies, 
why, it did seem to me the last straw! I upped 
on tiptoes then, and I said stoutly that sure as 
my name was Thomas Muffet there should be 
neither eating nor drinking out of common, 
neither money spent nor time wasted, Christ- 
mas or no Christmas, in my house. 

When I so spake they looked mightily taken 
aback, and in sooth I 'd a right queer feeling 
myself, 'fore the words were well-nigh out ; for 
all, I kept a stiff upper lip, an' never once let 
on. 'T was the look o' the children touched me 
keenest, — an' there was Patsey, too. "Thom- 
as ! " quoth she ; " Thomas ! " No more nor 
less ; an' her lip it trembled a bit. There sat 
she, saying naught, an' there sat Jack, an' 
Tony, an' Peg, a-looking for all the world like 
I 'd ordered 'em off to the galleys. 

Then saith I : " What ! Did ye look to be 
a-feasting when we can scarce pay honestly 
for daily meat an' meal ? To think of a Chris- 
tian man," quoth I, " an' father of a family, an' 
a shopkeeper besides, an' a leather-breeches 
maker at that — to think o' his being so harried 
an' worried in 'is own house ! Christmas here 
an' Christmas there, forsooth ! Heaven ha' mercy 
on us," saith I, " for the unthankfulness of 
women an' children ! What ! have ye not daily 
bread to eat ? Have ye not good clothes to 
cover you ? Can we not go to church Chris- 
tianly, say our prayers an' sing our hymns 
in season, without mince-pie or snap-dragon ? 
I warrant ye can," quoth I ; " and if ye do it 
well-behavingly, why, maybe this time next 
year, if money matters go straight, we '11 be- 
think us o' plum-pudding." 

Well, 't was a week or so 'fore Christmas 
when this speech came to pass. An' naught 
more was spoke on that certain matter, yet I 



might see vexation vastly working, no less. 
Howsoever, I 'd no notion o' giving in, for 
Thomas Muffet was never the man to say 
one thing to-day an' do straight contrariwise 
to-morrow. When Christmas day drew nigh 
an' nigher, the townsfolk began to drop into 
our shop right often for this, that, an' 
t' other small thing, for Christmas gifts; an' 
then I did bethink me, with the silver coming 
in, how I might ha' spared a little o' it, after 
all. Still, your fine Lord Pride hath a mighty 
stiff back, and I did never speak; as for the 
children, they durst not say a word for all 
thinking none too tenderly of me, I reckon. 
There was Jack, the eldest, he 'd always a 
stiffish will o' his own, an' likewise a sharp- 
planning head, had Jack. There was he, — a 
matter of 'leven year old, if I do remember 
rightly, — looking sulky as any bear. Now 
Tony, for all he was sweeter-natured, would 
always be following Jack's lead, through thick 
or thin, an' there was he also, sour-faced as you 
please. Then the eldest little girl, Peggy, 
't was she that made me maddest of any, with 
the corners of her little rosy mouth turned 
down so mournfully, an' the water in her eyes 
evermore ready to trickle. I did thank my 
stars that Joyce, the littlest, — she that was our 
pretty one, — was too young to be knowing or 
caring much concerning it. Well, it vext my 
heart an' mind a vast deal more than they 
gave me credit for, mayhap, only I kept on 
a-thinking how well I 'd taken care of 'em 
lifelong. " What ! shall I give to folly," saith 
I to myself, " what will be needed 'fore long for 
common living comfort ? Nay, not so whilst I 
keep my head properly on my shoulders." 

An' thus it passed on both sides till Christ- 
mas eve came round. 

'T was a perishing time o' frost that even, as 
I mind well to this day, with a gray sky an' 
the ground like iron for hardness. " 'T is a 
cold season," folks would be saying one to an- 
other ; yet none the less they did seem uncom- 
monly disposed to make it a warm festivity. 
In sooth, 't was as if everybody i' the town had 
laid heads together to make me feel knavish 
an' stingy ; for such a-going to market that 
morn, such clouds of smoke a-pouring from 
every chimney, I never did see the like afore. 




'THERE STOOD I, FACE TO FACE WITH 'EM, THE BASKET IN MY HAND." (SEE FACE 244.) 



ONE CHRISTMAS EVE AT MASTER MUFFET S. 



241 



We 'd the same as common on our table, an' 
that was good enow, to be sure, or would ha' 
been with cheerfuller looks to grace it, an' fewer 
frowns. Nobody in Wyanoke had better eating 
year in and out than we ; yet some way, I know 
not why, the victuals tasted none so good that 
day. Still, I never let it out I thought so, an' 
that way it went till nine o'clock came an' we 
all betook us bedward. 

Now, I 'm a sound sleeper in ordinary as any 
in this mortal world, aye, an' that from the min- 
ute my head touches the pillow ; only that night, 
goodness knoweth why, it did seem a mighty 
long while 'fore I even so much as dozed. 
Then, when I did go off, 't was dream, dream, 
dream ! An' first I must needs go dreaming 
that all the children were lost, an' we so dis- 
tressful a-seeking 'em up an' down. Then, lo ! 
we were all sitting round the bare table, not a 
sign o' victual upon it, with Patsey an' the 
young ones a-weeping for very hunger, the tears 
a-rolling down. Now, as 't were, I was in the 
church, an' parson preaching loud as thunder- 
sound from this text-verse, namely, " The man 
that careth not for his own household is worse 
than an infidel." Plain as ye please I did hear 
every word, an' straight he looked at me. Then, 
next whip-stitch, there was I clapt in the stocks, 
with all our townsfolk jeering. An' when it 
fetched to this pass I woke right up, wide awake 
as I am now. 

Well, well ! How long I 'd been asleep I 
know not. And I was glad enow to wake, 
since truly that sleeping had been none so plea- 
surable ; an' there I lay, staring straight afore 
me i' the dark, till all on a sudden what did I 
see but a light shining thro' the keyhole from 
the kitchen. 

Now, thinks I to myself, " 'T is a mighty 
queer thing, that light. Is 't somebody rob- 
bing," thinks I, lightning-quick, on a sudden, 
" or is 't the house afire ? " Howsoever, there 
was the light, sure enough ; up I got an' 
partly drest me, in a monstrous hurry. Then 
I went to the door and I looked through the 
keyhole, an' when I saw what was on t' other 
side — well, I like to ha' dropped. 

There was the fire I 'd covered up so snug 
all raked open an' builded up with wood into a 
blaze — aye, even flaming up the chimney like 
Vol. XXVI.— 31. 



mad; an' there was the bake-stone down 
a-heating, an' the Dutch oven, too, no less, 
with coals at top an' bottom ; an', moreover, 
there was my Patsey herself, — she that was my 
wedded wife, an' promist to obey me, Thomas 
Muffet, — there was that woman, up an' drest, 
a-standing by the table making cakes, an' it 
the dead hour o' the night ! 

Well, I thought I should ha' dropt (as I 
spoke afore) to see such goings on. " Oh, the 
naughty deceit an' the misbehavingness of 
women ! " thinketh I to myself; and, in truth, 
that sight did make me pretty mad. " Zounds ! " 
quoth I, "shall I be so disobeyed in mine own 
house ? " My hand was on the door to open it, 
when I looked through the keyhole once more, 
an' what saw I then but the tears trickling 
down that poor soul's cheeks ! 

Then saith I to myself, " Thou 'rt but a sorry 
husband an' father. Have a care, now ; 
thou 'st gone a bit too far. 'T is for the chil- 
dren she 's a-doing it. Here will be all thy 
neighbors, high and low," quoth I, " a-feasting 
finely in due season, and all thy poor household, 
with the smell on 't fairly in their nostrils, 
sitting down to a common, every-day dinner. 
Shame on thy savingness, Thomas Muffet," 
saith I. " Thank Heaven ! 't is not too late 
for thee to mend this mischief." 

Well, I did not ope the door, neighbors, nor 
neither did I strike a light ; for my main object 
then was to get softly out o' the house without 
being seen or heard. I found my shoes an' 
the rest o' my clothes, an' drest me, top to toe. 
Now, on one side of this, our biggest bed- 
room, was the lads' sleeping-chamber, and on 
t' other side was the little daughters'. An' first 
I oped one door softly, then the other; upon 
which, seeing all was dark an' still, I said, 
" They are sleeping sound i' their little beds." 
And it pleasured me vastly to think how that 
they might wake up a bit happier than when 
they fell to sleep. 

So at last I got me out into the street by an 
outer door that did open well away from the 
kitchen. 'T was perishing cold, and I but- 
toned my coat round me good and tight, an' 
just as I set off a-down street, as I do remem- 
ber well, the town clock struck eleven. So 
't was not so late as I had counted on ; also 



242 



ONE CHRISTMAS EVE AT MASTER MUFFET S. 



[Jan. 



I noted, as I went along, how scarcely a house some voices as of young children so sweetly 

did one see without a light burning inside, singing a Christmas hymn. 

Also a-many sounds of talking an' laughing Now, well I did know that tune, for 't was, 

came to mine ears, with folks still a-meeting to be sure, one mine own young ones were 

an' passing i' the street; an', lo ! as I did pass, mighty fond of singing. Also I catched a few 

I could hear, 'way off a-down a cross-street, o' the words, namely, these : 

" God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay ! 
For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born on Christmas 
day ! " 



I thought those voices sounded mighty 

sweet, an' like some I 'd heard afore, 

but, bless you ! if I 'd once guessed 

who 't was there ! I went on till 

I came to the market-place, 

that was situate right i' the 

middle o' the town. 

Now, in those days our mar- 
ket-house was nothing like 
so big as the new one later 
builded. 'T was situate in 
the same spot, and as pretty 
a bit of open green that is 
for a warm 
weather fair- 
ing, accord- 
ing to my 
opinion, as 
any in this 
land. Still 
was it big 
enough, that 
old market- 
house, for a 
deal of buy- 
ing an' sell- 
ing of rare 
good market 
stuffs inside 
as any ye '11 
find to-day 
in all Vir- 
ginia. I was 
a pretty late 
comer, that 
night ; yet, 
by my good 
fortune, the 
doors were 

'WHEN CHRISTMAS DAY DREW NIGH, THE TOWNSFOLK BEGAN TO DROP INTO OUR SHOP." P 




i8 99 .] 



ONE CHRISTMAS EVE AT MASTER MUFFET S. 



243 



lights not out. So in I walked, without pausing 
for a moment. 

Now, not a many people were there left by 
that while besides the market-folk, so busily 
a-counting of their gains, an' such few outsiders 
as still remained were close up round the big 
fireplace in talk together. An' my hands 
being right stiff with the cold, an' thinking to 
supple 'em out a bit, I went close up to the 
coals in one corner; yet it chanced that my 
face was in shade, for my hat I 'd pulled down 
low an' my collar high up — nor did anybody 
know that 't was Thomas Muffet. 

Well, the talk at first was to me as a buzz, 
commingled of this, that, an' t' other word that 
did chance to catch my hearing. So there was 
I, a-rubbing my fingers an' thinking mine own 
inside thoughts, when presently this speech did 
fall upon mine ear : 

" Thomas Muffet ! " quoth one, — an' one 
that I did know well, too — " Thomas Muffet ! 
Ah-ha ! I do know him for a close man. He 
will flay you a gnat for its skin and its tallow 
— an' that 's truth ! " 

Faith ! I could not fetch breath to deny it, 
e'en if I would — I was that struck dumb. 

So there sat I a-listening, saying not a 
word contrariwise whilst two or three of 'em 
went on to take away my character. " Aye," 
said one, " Thomas Muffet was a stingy one, 
and no mistaking. Money-getting and money- 
saving would be all his aim." "As for his wife, 
Mistress Muffet," quoth another, " she was a 
good, unhappy creature that hardly durst call 
her soul her own, for all one o' the best women 
in this 'versal world." "As for the children," said 
these blessed wiseacres, " they would be kept 
close enough so long as Thomas Muffet might 
'complish it, no doubt; howsoever, if they 
mistook not, yon lad Jack was like enough 
to find a career o' his own." 

Well-a-day ! There I sat, hearing all and an- 
swering nothing. Truly, I was took aback, an' 
mad, too (as was but natural heart o' flesh), yet 
not so mad as I might ha' been several hours 
afore. Ye see, I 'd had a sore prick i' the con- 
science a'ready, an' now, lo ! I fell to wonder- 
ing within me, on a sudden, how much truth 
was mixt with falsehood in that speech. " Aye, 
think well upon 't, Thomas," saith I to myself; 



" and if a fourth of this be true, or a tenth, or a 
twentieth, 't will be best to mend your ways." 
An' just as I so bethought me, even 'fore they 
had left off speaking, there came a sound of 
music to the door, and in did come those very 
Christmas singers I 'd heard some while before. 

Then everybody but me got up an' crowded 
round about 'em to list the song. Now, the 
singers I could not very well see. They did 
seem two lads and a little maid, well wrapt in 
cloaks (for the cold), an' the former with their 
caps pulled low over brows, an' the maid hooded 
close. Also, they hushed a while (being got 
within), it seemed to me shamefacedly ; yet they 
came not anigh the fire. An' when the people 
all clapt hands for 'em to begin, they struck up 
the same old heartsome tune that I 'd heard 
'em at afore. 

Now, here is the first verse, as may happen 
ye know a'ready : 

" God rest you, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dis- 
may ! 

For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born on Christ- 
mas day. 

The dawn brake red o'er Bethlehem, the stars shone 
thro' the gray, 

When Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born on Christ- 
mas day ! " 

Well, by time they 'd done that first verse 
the water stood in mine eyes, whilst as for 
t' other folk, they did clap hands so long an' 
loud that 't was some while 'fore the next verse 
got started. Surely, no sweeter voices were 
ever heard a-sounding this side o' heaven, an' 
surely, surely (thinketh I to myself), I 've heard 
'em oft before. 

Then presently they went on : 

" God rest ye, little children, let nothing you affright ! 

For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, did come this blessed 
night. 

Along the hills of Galilee the white flocks sleeping lay, 

When Christ, the Child of Nazareth, was born on Christ- 
mas day ! " 

Now, they be gladsome rhymes, too, an' most 
seasonable ; yet is the last verse, to my notion, 
the prettiest one of all, an' to it everybody i' 
that market-house was fairly beating time. 

" God rest ye, all good Christians ! upon this blessed 

morn 
The Lord of all good Christians was of a woman born. 



244 



ONE CHRISTMAS EVE AT MASTER MUFFET S. 



[Jan. 



Now all your sorrows he doth heal, your sins doth take 
away. 

For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born on Christ- 
mas day ! " 

Now, when 't was ended and "Amen" said, the 
noise began again, an' presently one cried out 
loud, saying, " Thy cap, lad ! Hold thy cap ! " 
whereupon I saw the tallest youngster lay hand 
on 's cap, an' half-way lift it from his head — 
only half-way, mind you, for he jammed it back 
again right quickly, like he thought, on a sud- 
den, of a good reason for keeping it there. 
Then saith he to a market-woman standing 
there hard by, " Good dame " (quoth he), 
" please, good dame, will you lend me your 
hat ? " which hearing, she kindly offered it 
straightway (I mind it well for a rusty old 
pointed-top beaver), an' that was the hat he 
handed round. 

Now, I 'd seen, first glance, when he lifted 
that cap, how 't was my lad Jack; and if I was 
'mazed afore such seeing, I was worse in 'maze- 
ment afterward. To think o' their being my 
own children, — Thomas Muffet's children, — so 
parading the streets ! an' the little maid Peggy, 
too, with their mother at home knowing on 
more concerning it (for truly she did not know) 
than I myself had suspicioned what time I 
started out ; and all because I had denied 'em 
their natural merry Christmas at home. Now, 
I '11 freely confess that I like money well as 
the most o' folks, yet if 't was not sorely 'gainst 
my grain then to see that silver fall into the hat, 
an' Jack Muffet a-holding it out — why, my 
name 's not Thomas Muffet ! Howsoever, I 
was past both speech an' motion, an' there I 
sat by the fire, a-gazing like any ninny. No- 
body save myself did seem to know the lad; 
an' that was one thing to be thankful for. 
Neither did he see me. Some more carols 
they sang, — goodness knoweth what ! for they 
were all as one to me, — and a pretty sum they 
got for all together. I was thankful enow 
they did not fall to spending on 't there in that 
place, 'fore my eyes; an' presently off they 
went with those last loiterers behind 'em, an' 
left me alone with the market-folk. 

Well, afterwhile I marked those people (that 
were now a-shutting up shop, as 't were) look- 
ing at me mighty curiously, an' then at last I 



did get up with legs so stiff an' fairly a-trem- 
ble under me. What things I did buy of them 
I do not now rightly remember. In sooth, 
their wares were by that while pretty well 
picked o'er, yet we made out enough o' the 
very best to serve my turn. First thing I did buy 
was a basket ; for I had fetched none with 
me thither; then, concerning what I got to put 
within the said basket (and a right big one it 
was), let 's see. Aye, aye ; let 's see. Was 't a 
goose? Aye, 't was so; I am 'most certain — 
a fine, fat goose ; then (if my memory goeth not 
astray) 't was a pair of fine ducks, and a pretty 
bit o' beef; for bacon we had at home — the 
best Virginia-cured ; then 't was nuts an' rai- 
sins an' comfits next, with what not o' that sort. 
I mind well some sugar-work, most cunningly 
devised an' colored, after the French fashion, 
in shape of divers fruits, as cherries, apples, 
pears, and so on, to please the two little maids. 

So was the basket filled by time my purse 
would be well-nigh empty, an' so off I started, 
toting it along home. 

Now, 't was midnight hour by that, mighty 
keen an' cold, with the snowflakes 'ginning to 
fall ; yet some way my heart did feel a vast deal 
warmer than at twelve o' the clock that former 
day. I saw no more of those blessed children, 
nor neither heard, till I got safe home to 
my house; then, lo ! as I fetched up close on 
t' other side, I spied 'em there, dim through the 
dark an' the snow a-falling, on the kitchen 
door-step. An' they did not see me, neither did 
I let on that I saw them. Nay; I oped my 
door softly, an' went in through the bedroom ; 
then I oped t' other door into the kitchen, an' 
just as those blessed rogues did step in 'cross 
the threshold, there stood I, face to face with 
'em, the basket in my hand. 

Well, masters ! If you could ha' seen my 
Patsey's face, I reck' you 'd ha' laughed, or 
maybe cried — no telling which. 

" Thomas ! " quoth she ; no more nor less. 
" Thomas ! " quoth she; an' so she stood a-gazing. 

Concerning all that was said an' done that 
time I 've no need to go a-telling it. And 
of reproving those young ones (who had so 
stolen out o' their beds to go a- wandering in 
the streets), I fear me I made a sorry excuse at 
that business. As for the silver they 'd so in- 



9-] 



ONE CHRISTMAS EVE AT MASTER MUFFET S. 



245 



taken, I made 'em give the last penny on 't to 
some certain poor neighbors; yet verily I must 
needs acknowledge this seemed unto the young 
rogues more pleasure than punishment. 




-/.,;;:^-f j 



"THE SINGERS I COULD NOT VERY WELL SEE. 



Now, as to those things my Patsey had been 
there a-making and a-baking, 't was a right 
surprisin' sight to behold. The like o' that 



woman for housewifery an' makin' the best o' 
things I never did see. Now, there had she 
made pies; there had she baked sweet cakes; 
just a-working with common wherewithal and 
in that make-a-shift 
way. There had she 
shaped of that cake- 
dough divers curious 
figures (to please the 
little maids, belike), 
as birds' nests with eggs 
inside 'em, hearts an' 
darts, anchors — aye, 
even lions an' tigers 
an' human creatures. 
'T was a right curious 
show to look at, be- 
sides no little help to 
next day's feast. I 
think we had as good 
a dinner that Christ- 
mas day as any of 
our neighbors ; an', 
sooth to say, all went 
well, for the parson 
preached a comfort- 
ing sermon from the 
text, "Peace on earth, 
good will to man," an' 
whene'er he chanced 
to look at me I felt 
I 'd no cause to take 
shame. 

Zounds ! how the 

children did sing in 

church that morn ! I 

never did hear the like, 

nor neither did know before that time what 

proper sweet voices the good Lord had given 'em. 

So 't was a right merry Christmas, after all. 



A DARK MORNING. 



If Christmas morning could — 
Or if Christmas morning should — 
Find for you an empty stocking, 
Would n't that be very shocking ? 

Ethel H. Staples. 



y Yw>w\©\ 5lw ^ SW® , if :, s^i 5 !! & so- 





ften brother* plavs the violin, 

V/ee u©P^ begins to ppance; 
nol to and fr>o f And m and out, 

Me leads us in the dance, 
ir^ou; rMght foot back; noaj left foot out; 
pind nouj ao doajn the middle. 
jollu dancing class u;e have, 
en b^othet 3 plaus the fiddle! 




246 



fr»"-'-'- :■ z~rr .-"uriVAWZ 







•I^W^ltl^j 




w^^-'^sssS^^ 



PROFESSOR ROOSTER'S CROWING SCHOOL. 



POINTS OF VIEW. 



By Abbie Farwell Brown. 



When beat of drums and tramp of feet 
With crowds of people fill the street, 
Oh, how they run and push and cry 
As the procession passes by ! 
Bob hears the bands of music play, 
And sees some bayonets move away; 
But, though he stands on tiptoe tall, 
The people make a solid wall. 

He hears their shout, and knows they 've 
seen, 

But tries in vain to peek between. 

They stand too tall and close, and so 

He cannot see the soldiers go. 

The men forget, in all the noise, 

That once they too were little boys. 
Bob wonders how it feels to be 
Just big and tall enough to see. 



But sometimes when the grown-ups come 
To see his playhouse here at home, 
And when he tries so hard to show 
The things he likes the best, you know, — 
The truly things one has to " play," — 
They only look around and say : 
" I can't see any castle there ! " 
Or, " Where 's the princess ? " " How ? " 
and " Where ? " 

Oh, does it not seem very queer? — 
For he can see them plainly here. 
But people who could view so well 
The big procession, and could tell 
The very shoes the soldiers wore, 
Can't see things on the nursery floor ! 
Bob wonders how it feels to be 
Too big and tall and old to see. 




FATHER. 



By Maud Keary. 



Out in the morning father goes, 
Whether it storms with rain or snows, 
Whether the wild wind rests or blows. 

By the fire sit mother and I, 

Doing our lessons quietly. 

Back in the twilight father comes, 

When I 've finished with books and sums. 

Not all the noise of all the drums 

Is a jollier noise, I know, 

Than father when he says, " Hallo ! " 



INTERCOLLEGIATE BASKET-BALL FOR WOMEN. 



By Anita L. Corbert. 



It is now generally conceded that the "sound 
body, sound mind " theory is as applicable to 
girls as to boys, and, therefore, all that is said 
from time to time of the benefits of athletics 
among college boys may be said with equal 
vigor of the advantages of suitable athletics 
among college girls. 

For a long time college girls were debarred 
from the pleasures and advantages that come 
from the active outdoor sports indulged in by 
their brother students. To be sure, they had 
tennis and golf, but while these are very good 
exercise as far as they go, a boy would con- 
sider, them a poor substitute for football and 
baseball and rowing, for these permit of team- 
play in combination with individual exercise. 

In some of our woman's colleges, athletics 
have already become a strong feature in the 
life of the students. Wellesley has taken the 
lead in spirited inter-class rowing contests, and 
is proud of her strong crew. Other colleges 
also pay considerable attention to rowing, but 
basket-ball is fast becoming the most widely 
popular sport. While it was originally intended 



for men, it is well suited to women. It de- 
mands no special apparatus, and may be played 
wherever a group of girls can be gathered. 

But anything taken up in a merely desultory 
way loses much of its power for good. The 
game of basket-ball can be made scientific, and 
being in every way adapted to their needs, 
it ought to fill for girls the place that football 
holds with boys. 

Nothing but match games can bring out the 
strong points in a sport. The moral and intel- 
lectual value of a game can appear only when 
there is some real contest at hand. It is then 
that one learns self-control, generosity toward 
an opponent, respect for authority, and — for 
women the most important lesson of all — the 
value of organization, of working together as a 
unit : Each one for the team. Class spirit can 
never equal the intensity or the unselfishness 
of college spirit, and therefore the best way 
to give any college game the earnestness which 
brings it to its best development is to put 
men or women on their mettle through inter- 
collegiate rivalry. 



248 



INTERCOLLEGIATE BASKET-BALL FOR WOMEN. 



249 



In the far West, in the spring of 1896, was 
played the first intercollegiate game of basket- 
ball between women. It was an experiment. 
Men meet their opponents on the athletic 
field as gentlemen. Would women meet as 
gentlewomen ? The players themselves knew 
that they would, and they meant to demon- 
strate the fact to some doubters. The opposing 
teams were from Stanford University and the 
University of California. Perhaps these young 
women were at an advantage because, coming 
from coeducational institutions, they had before 
them the standard of etiquette set by their foot- 
ball-playing brothers, in which they were de- 
termined not to be found wanting. They did 
not have to form a code of honor for them- 
selves by the slow process of experiment. 
The game was played in San Francisco, 
on neutral ground. It was played within 
doors, and before an audience of women 
only. About a thousand spectators 
witnessed the game. Every one of 
them was wildly enthusiastic, and 
they made the walls ring with col- 
lege cries and cheers, with shouts 
of victory or groans of defeat. A 
main matter with both teams was 






X. 





A PLAYER PASSING THE BALL TO ANOTHER ON THE RL 



the playing of a good, hearty, even at a football game — a thoroughly capa- 

straightforward game. They ble, energetic, and impartial umpire and referee, 

played strictly by the rules, and While there was plenty of dash and snap, it is 

had — what is seldom found needless to say that there was no unnecessary 
Vol. XXVI.— 32. 



250 



INTERCOLLEGIATE BASKET-BALL FOR WOMEN. 



[Jan. 




THE REGULATION COSTUME. 



roughness. 
The game 
was a good 
exhibitionof 
scientific 
basket-ball, 
and was the 
resultofcon- 
scientious 
training on 
the part of 
both teams. 
At Stan- 
ford Uni- 
versity, of 
which the 
writer is 
particularly 
qualified to 
speak, the 
girls play 
on a large 
field near 
the gymna- 
sium. Every year the ground is har- 
rowed and rolled and put in shape for 
playing. During the season, field prac- 
tice is held every afternoon at four 
o'clock, unless the ground be very 
muddy from recent rains. Fifteen 
minutes' exercise in the gymnasium — 
generally some light work at chest- 
weights and a quick run — is the rule 
before the order is given to play ball. 
Then the captain, the very j oiliest, most 
" all-round " girl in college, keen, alert, 
supple, and quick of motion, tucks the 
big ball under her arm, and a moment 
later eighteen extremely wide-awake, 
brisk-looking girls are lined up in posi- 
tion on the field. 

Only nine players are required for 
a side, but a chance is always given 
to every player who appears on the 
field to play on one side or the other 
during the practice. All new candi- 
dates are placed on the " scrub " team, or 
second nine, and great is the competition for 
places on the " Varsity." The coach is gen- 
erally the gymnasium instructor, and the 




awarding of positions upon the team lies with 
him and the captain. 

The uniform consists of red jerseys and dark 
blue or black bloomers. As basket-ball at this 
university has been placed on an equal rank 
with football, the members of a basket-ball 
team playing in an intercollegiate contest are 
entitled to wear the regulation Varsity sweater, 
and the girls will go through any amount of 
hard work to win this much-coveted distinction. 
Inter-class games always bring out a large 
number of spectators. The girls who do not 
care to indulge in athletics themselves come 
out to cheer their class on to victory, and their 
enthusiasm is unbounded. It is a good-natured 
crowd. The girls forget to be stiff and cere- 
monious toward one another, and a general 
spirit of good fellowship prevails. 

Although it takes much practice to become 
a skilful basket-ball player, the points of the 
game are simple and easily learned. 

At each end of the field is a goal — a basket 
made of cord netting, eighteen inches in diam- 
eter, and suspended from a pole ten feet 
high. In the center of the field 
are three players from each side, 
who are known as the " centers." 
The ball is put in play by being 
thrown in by the referee, who stands 
on the outer edge of the field, and 






/ 




ONE OF THE 



TOSSING THE BALL 



INTO THE BASKET. 



it must be caught by one of 
the centers. The center 
catching the ball then en- 
deavors to pass it, before 




INTERCOLLEGIATE BASKET-BALL FOR WOMEN. 



251 



being interfered with by the opposing centers, 
to her " homes," two of whom occupy positions 
between the goal and the center, while the third 
stands directly under the basket. It is the lat- 
ter's sole duty to toss the ball into the basket 
when it has been passed to her by the other 
homes, although these are not prohibited from 
trying for goal when they have a good chance. 
The homes are opposed by three " guards," who 
attempt to prevent a goal, and who try to send 
the ball, as soon as they can get it, toward their 
own goal at the other end of the field. 

Although the game is vigorous, it is not nec- 
essarily rough. Strict adherence to the rules 
prevents the roughness and dangers of football. 
There is no tackling, because a player is not 
allowed to run with the ball. It must be thrown 
from the spot where it is caught. Holding 
the ball longer than five seconds is counted a 
foul. A player may get the ball from an oppo- 
nent by batting it with the palms of her hands, 
but she may not snatch or pull it away. The 
person of a player must not be touched inten- 
tionally. This rule includes all shouldering, 




pushing, and holding. Violations of these 
more important rules constitute fouls, 
and a foul gives the opposing side a 
free throw for goal from the fifteen-foot 
line. Instead of being re- 
stricted in its scope by 
keeping strictly to 
the rules, the game 
/ Hk wou ld lose much 
of its value if 
these rules 
were disre- 
garded. 




LONG THROW. 




'BATTING" THE BALL FROM AN OPPONENT. 



Considerable science may be shown in a game 
of basket-ball, and pretty and effective passes can 
„ __. __ _^ D e mac i e by good team- 

work. The ability to de- 
ceive the opponents as 
to the direction of the 
passes, quickness and 
sureness in throwing, 
speed in getting from 
one point on the field to 
another ahead of an op- 
ponent, good jumping 
and good catching, are 
the qualities that make 
a winning team. 

As a rule, no player 
is equally well fitted for 
all positions. A guard, 
for instance, would 
rarely make a good cen- 
ter. The prime requi- 
sites for a center are 
agility and speed, while 
a guard, on the contrary, 
has little running to 
do. The guards are also 
usually stronger and 
heavier than the cen- 



252 



INTERCOLLEGIATE BASKET-BALL FOR WOMEN. 




IN THE FIELD. THE GAME IN PROGRESS. 



ters, who are small and light. Perhaps there is 
no position so difficult as that held by the " cen- 
ter home." Her work is no easy matter, for she 
is under the " eternal vigilance " of the three 
sturdy guards, who attempt to thwart her throws 
at every turn. Above all, she must be cool- 
headed, quick to think, and quick to act. She 
must also have an accurate aim; but this will 
avail her nothing unless she is cool enough and 
quick enough to outplay the guards. 

It is a pretty sight when the big ball, pro- 
pelled by a quick, graceful movement of the 
arm and body, soars into the air, balances for a 
second tantalizingly on the edge of the basket, 
and then bounds off among the eager, up- 
stretched hands below, to be pounced upon 



by some lively 
guard and again 
sent whirling and 
bouncing up and 
down the field. 

Preparatory- 
school basket-ball 
is a great stimulus 
to the college 
game. Indeed,the 
lack of physical 
training in the 
earlier schools 
must always be a 
great drawback to 
woman's athletics 
in college. Al- 
though many of 
the schools have 
not the necessary 
equipment for a 
gymnastic train- 
ing, there is no 
reason why basket- 
ball may not be 
played by them, 
for it is a game 
quite independent 
of a gymnasium. 
Intended origi- 
nally as an indoor 
game, it is not 
necessarily so; it may be played on any large 
field or playground. If the regulation basket is 
not to be had, the ingenious girl will put com- 
mon netting around a hoop, and set up her own 
basket. Even a bushel-basket has been used. 

Since physical training is fast coming to be rec- 
ognized as a most important factor in a woman's 
education, the need of athletic sports suitable 
for women will be felt more and more. Basket- 
ball seems destined to fill this want, for wher- 
ever it has been played, in school or college, it 
has proved itself both popular and desirable. 
It may be said, further, that it has a great ad- 
vantage over other games that have been intro- 
duced, in that it always creates and maintains 
a high degree of interest and enthusiasm. 



''ALBERT r VB1GELOW H** PAINE -^ 





254 



CUPID AND SANTA CLAUS. 



" Ho, Cupid ! " cried the Saint, " what brings 
thee hither 
Along this toilsome way ? 
Jump in, my boy, and tell me why and 
whither. 
'T is almost break of day ! " 

Then, chatting cozily, the friends went skim- 
ming 
Westward, as night had gone, 

Behind them in the east the stars d&W'ii 

- 3 
were dimming iff 

Beneath the veil of dawn, — 

Till up before a massive outer gateway 
Their flying coursers drew ; 
" Ah, ha ! the very place," quoth Cupid, 
straightway, 
" That I was coming to ! " 

And from the cushioned cutter lightly 
leaping, 
Without a glance behind, 
From door to window-sill the boy went 
creeping, 
An entrance-way to find. 




But all were locked and barred — he could 
not enter ; 
No latch unloosed its string ; 
And Cupid faced the morning airs of 
winter, 
Forlorn and shivering. 

Nicholas more leisurely selected 
A sparkling gift or two, 
Ascended to the roof, and, well pro- 
tected, 
Dropped lightly down the flue. 

And where there shimmered like a 
priceless billow 
A mass of golden hair 
Across the whiteness of a maiden's 
pillow, 
He laid his tribute there. 



Then, smiling, turned with saintly self-efface- 
ment, 
And flung the window wide ; 
And morning shed its glory round the 
casement 
As Cupid stepped inside. 




toWRW WE glCjffl gjj 

hem maw a» «OEn sniro. 



ft 



"\L 






4%<* 



(\"W 



■■■■-5 



!&!> 



3 



) ffflED mnp (irmrnTTii 
RilJ 

(roup 



^ 



f$0 



L-Xv 



W 







[ rt m ug mej b msmjEsmb wbb jm d ^ 

~ (iffluiqj MME) flJ USTiD QH3HB fMB WilM) iMM 

m asm) (eh ed ehiej gehd ebd ammn i <© 

Miiiini. ) raZEi cmzz.1 i 1 i i cm — > cEmnj pmr 

201 r ' ' ) c > ( j c ~> dnnnnj <n' 

TT E )( At. -T) i. .) EHUD (SZD 

QBDt_ < Alice l\<awJind zzdotel 

*^> CT Went a - CaJhnO Z3® 

«£ On <rome friend* -_» 

j»«L Both tried and true^ 

iiD(m5e- B u1 5Ae couldn't .j^i, 

ipDizz 

fflEDCZ 

I B fliirw ry 

amDcf 

Bfcf 
Hi 



Reach the door^bell 



I 



ZJffli 

And her Kind friends d™ 
Never kew . _7^o». 

. ~~J 'Uili ^ iMS uD ijMMn) (MiMlit iZZD <HMli 

- — > i~ri ijninin wkua i ~ "zzsd ec 

Zjjg i 

Then she visited Jg 
Some neighbors j.-^ 
Bui she tooKthem ?Jf 
Unawares . ^Jf 

They loo-keaa-t "hen™ 
Trom the window,^ 

J3ul they wouldn't ^ 

D Come down-staiT5^ii 

|p dim ffine rauro dmnzv tamr- ~^s»r 

> (hud Cipro?? sfflmirnD mm wtfiffi^ TT™r«. 

exhed amp mm^mm'(msjjJi^fS^ 

X-^^ f.-nmnm we..»., h .,[to7r> c^iTTmlilliiifeui ffll 



BOOKS AND READING FOR YOUNG FOLK. 



We have received letters cordially approving 
the plan of publishing in this department lists 
of books for young readers. We quote from 
this correspondence. 

This comes from Chicago : 

I am exceedingly glad that you have undertaken the 
work of recommending books for young people. 



Here is an interesting letter from a mother: 

The Editor of St. Nicholas : I am much interested 
in the new department in St. Nicholas, which I am 
sure will be a help to all the mothers and children who 
read it. In reading to and with my own children I have 
tried to help them to a rounded mental development, as well 
as to a love for the best books and things ; so the mental 
bill of fare has contained books on history and science, 
books of imagination, the myths and folk-lore of the na- 
tions, and stories of many kinds, " from grave to gay, 
from lively to severe," as well as books of adventure and 
daring. 

The younger of the children, a girl of nine years and 
two months, recently made out the following list of her 
ten favorite books. She did it quite alone; but she 
made so many changes in the last half-dozen of the books, 
and was so dissatisfied with this final list because "it 
left out some of the very nicest ones," that I am not 
sure it is her list of favorites, after all. She remem- 
bered them in the order preferred : 

1. Adventures of Robin Hood, Pyle. 

2. Adventures of a Brownie, Muloch. 

3. Farthest North, Nansen. 

4. Ivanhoe, Scott. 

5. Little Women, Alcott. 

6. Uncle Remus, Harris. 

7. Beautiful Joe, Saunders. 

8. The Jungle Books, Kipling. 

9. Prince and the Pauper, Mark Twain. 
10. Open Sesame (Vols. I., II.). 

Some of the books which she was very unwilling to 
leave out were " Black Beauty," " The Man who Mar- 
ried the Moon," "Treasure Island," and " Eye Spy." 

The boy, aged eleven years and one month, made his 
list as follows, without change or correction : 

1. Farthest North, Nansen. 

2. The Boy's King Arthur, Edited by Lanier. 

3. Tent Life in Siberia, Kennan. 

4. Ivanhoe, Scott. 

5. The William Henry Letters, Diaz. 



6. Eye Spy, Gibson. 

7. Jungle Books, Kipling. 

8. Through Magic Glasses, Buckley. 

9. Tales of a Grandfather, Scott. 

10. Hero Tales from American History, Roose- 
velt and Lodge. 

As to why they like the books, that is more difficult to 
get at. The little girl likes them " because they are so 
interesting," or " so funny," or " such a nice story." 
The boy likes Nansen's book " because it is the most 
interesting thing I ever read, and because he is brave, 
and makes light of things." He likes " King Arthur " 
" because it is funny and brave and noble," and " Tent 
Life" "because it sounds like just what it is — a true 
story, and not any old made-up tale." The " William 
Henry Letters " are " so funny," and " Through Magic 
Glasses " has "such interesting astronomy." 

These children are, I think, normally intelligent, 
healthy, and fun-loving. They are by no means unduly 
fond of books, and dolls and football rival Robin Hood's 
and Nansen's adventures. The boy reads all the books 
in his list to himself with pleasure ; but the most of 
those in the girl's list are as yet read to her. Of course 
St. Nicholas is, and always has been, a prime favorite 
with both. I am anxious to see the lists of other children 
of the same age, in order to have some sort of gage by 
which to measure in these children the development of 
the love of good reading. Sincerely, 

H 



A New Jersey correspondent writes : 

Dear St. Nicholas : Having read your offer to tell 
people of good books to read, I am writing you for that 
purpose. 

I have read nearly all of the children's books, and 
have also been reading books by the " Duchess " and by 
Rider Haggard. 

My mother wishes me to read books from which I 
will learn something; but I do not care to read books 
that are like my lessons. Will you kindly tell me which 
are the best authors for a girl of fifteen to read ? 
Yours sincerely, 

Helen S. R . 

A friend to whom this letter was shown 
made up the following short list, among which 
there may be some useful to the young in- 
quirer. Who will send other suggestions ? 



The Abbot, Scott. 
The Talisman, Scott. 



256 



BOOKS AND READING FOR YOUNG FOLK. 



257 



The Caged Lion, Yonge. 

The Daisy Chain, Yonge. 

The Chaplet of Pearls, Yonge. 

Pillars of the House, Yonge. 

Six to Sixteen, Yonge. 

Daddy Darwin's Dovecote, Ewing. 

Mary's Meadow, Ewing. 

We Girls, Whitney. 

The Other Girls, Whitney. 

Ten Times One is Ten, Hale. 

Rudder Grange, Stockton. 

The Colonel's Opera Cloak, Brush. 

Inside Our Gate, Brush. 

Cherry and Violet, Manning. 

Hans Blinker, Dodge. 

What Katy Did, " Coolidge." 

What Katy Did at School, " Coolidge," 

Queen of the Pirate Isle, Harte. 

And, to add a few books that are perhaps for 
older readers : 

Off the Skelligs, Ingelow. 
Shirley, Bronte. 
Villette, Bronte. 
Lorna Doone, Blackmore. 
Cranford, Gaskell. 

Another friend adds some books for boys, 
saying that girls like their brothers' books : 

Cruise of the " Ghost," Alden. 

Cast up by the Sea, Baker. 

Hoosier School-boy, Eggleston. 

Uncle Remus, Harris. 

A Boy's Town, Howells. 

Jackanapes, Ewing. 

Story of a Bad Boy, Aldrich. 

Men of Iron, Pyle. 

Master Skylark, Bennett. 

Phaeton Rogers, Johnson. 

A Jolly Fellowship, Stockton. 

Three Boys on an Electrical Boat, Trowbridge. 

These lists include only fiction and do not 
mention the very best known, since these will 
be remembered without suggestion. 



We shall be glad if some correspondent will 
furnish a list for children under fourteen. 



Surely there must have been a time when all 
story-books were really for grown-ups. This 
suggests the interesting question, What was 
the first story-book published for children ? 
Who can throw light on this dark subject ? 



A correspondent asks for a " short list of 
books suitable to place in an orphans' home." 



It is likely that neither Homer, ^Esop, not 
Epictetus wrote out the works that gave them 
fame. Are there other authors whose books 
were at first handed down by word of mouth ? 



Lizette Woodworth Reese, an author known 
to many St. Nicholas readers, writes in the 
" Independent": 

There is a good deal of poetic literature that can be 
put at the service of the child. Longfellow's "The 
Arrow and the Song," " Santa Filomena " (though a 
little too long) ; Browning's noble song from " Pippa 
Passes," — 

God 's in his heaven, 

All 's right with the world ; 

his "How We Brought the Good News from Aix to 
Ghent"; Leigh Hunt's " Abou ben Adhem " ; "The 
Deserted Village " (which is good to read aloud) ; 
Boker's "Dirge for a Soldier." No boy that is worth 
the name but will rouse at the bugle notes of "Mar- 
mion " ; Macaulay's Roman ballads will start him to 
soldiering. . . . 

It is its illusive quality that makes one of the chief 
charms of poetry. Suppose a word or two is lost to a 
child. Over-explanation serves to cheapen. Suppose 
he only recalls the poem as a strain of music. He is 
the wealthier by one more mystery. I see no reason 
why children brought up to the best literature should 
not in some measure appropriate it to themselves. 
They will have noble ideas, and these will prepare the 
way for a noble vocabulary. 



A book-lover says that new books should, 
the first time, be opened very carefully. He 
advises that the book should be held upright 
between the hands, while the back lies flat on 
a table. Then open down the front cover and 
back cover, holding all the leaves together. 
Then open a few pages at the front, then at 
the back, and so on until the pages have been 
brought down upon the covers, a few at a time. 
A book so treated will never have a " broken 
back," and will last indefinitely. 



In taking a book from the shelves, do not 
hook a finger over the top of the binding and 
upset it. Push inward the book at each side, 
and then grasp the desired volume at the sides, 
and draw it out respectfully. 



Vol. XXVI.— 33. 





Oh, think what George Adolphus did! 

The children point and stare. 
He went where mother had forbid, 

And said " he did n't care ! " 

Oh, think what George Adol 
phus did ! 
He made his mother cry ! 
The children whoop, " You 
are a Goop 
Fie, George Adolphus 
fie!" 





259 



CURRENT EVENTS. 



THE BRITISH AGAIN CONTROL THE SOUDAN. 

At last the death of brave Chinese Gordon is 
avenged, and the cruel tyranny of the " Mahdi " 
is broken. Punishment of the Arabs was long 
in coming; but if the English are slow, they 
are also thorough. We may believe that Mah- 
dism has passed away forever. 

The testimony of a witness and victim, who 
finally escaped, — Slatin Pasha, — gives a pic- 
ture of the horrors of the Mahdist rule that 
chills the blood. Such wanton cruelty, law- 
lessness, crime, and insanity is almost without 
parallel in history. 

In contrast to this riot of misrule is the or- 
derly advance of the victorious Egyptian army 
under the command of the "Sirdar" (which is 
the title of the first military officer in India and 
Egypt), Sir Herbert Kitchener. They pushed 
steadily forward, building a railroad as they 
went. This brought to them all necessary sup- 
plies and reinforcements. They met the Mah- 
dists at Khalifa, a town which the Mahdi built 
opposite the ruined Khartum, where Gordon 
was slain. The English annihilated the Arab 
hordes, though the fanatics fought with their 
usual desperate courage 

This successful expedition has planted the 
seed from which may spring a splendid fruit. 
Before many of you who read this are far ad- 
vanced in life, the Empire of Africa may take 
its place among the nations. The country is 
enormously rich, and under the fostering rule 
of Great Britain the whole region should ad- 
vance toward civilization with a rapidity rival- 
ing even American progress. H. W. P. 

LIQUEFIED AIR. 

One of the latest wonders of science is the 
production of what is called "liquefied air." 
This is a fluid, and when in repose it looks 
precisely like so much pure water, except that 
it has a slight blue tinge. 

It is produced from ordinary air, which, 
by an ingenious apparatus, is subjected to an 



immense pressure. It is then cooled, and after 
all the heat possible is extracted, the liquefied 
air pours from the pipe like a stream of water. 

The temperature of this liquid is about 312 
F. below zero. As this intensity of cold can 
scarcely be imagined, we may understand it 
better by learning that if the liquid air be 
poured upon a block of ice, it bubbles and 
flies off like water poured on a hot stove. 
This is because the ice is 344 hotter than the 
liquid air. Some of this fluid, poured into a 
glass, will begin to boil at once ; and, not con- 
tent with extracting heat from the atmosphere, 
also steals heat from the glass, which becomes 
coated with frost. When exposed to the at- 
mosphere, the liquid air returns to its original 
vapor ; so, to preserve it in a state of liquefac- 
tion, it must be carefully kept from all contact 
with anything having a higher degree of tem- 
perature. 

This can be done, to a certain extent, by 
keeping it in cans wrapped in felt ; but the 
evaporation only becomes slower — it cannot 
be stopped entirely. Some interesting experi- 
ments may be made with liquid air to prove 
the intensity of its coldness. Though it boils 
when poured into a glass, this does not mean 
that the air is hot like boiling water. On the 
contrary, it is still so cold that if a bit of meat 
or fruit be dipped into it for an instant, and then 
removed, the morsel will be found to be frozen 
so stiff and so brittle that it may be broken 
in pieces or ground to powder. A little 
alcohol poured into liquid air becomes frozen 
at once, and may be lifted out in a lump. 

Of course, as the liquid air boils away, it re- 
turns to its original condition of ordinary air, 
and soon disappears. The expansion thus 
caused produces an immense force. 

Eight hundred cubic feet of ordinary air, when 
compressed, yields only one cubic foot of liquid 
air ; so if this is confined, and allowed to ex- 
pand suddenly, it bursts its bonds with a force 
greater than that of gunpowder or any other 
explosive known to us at present 

C. W. 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



A mischievous correspondent sends us the following 
amusing verses : 

I have a little boy of six, 

A dainty one and sweet; 
He always at the table 

Has been remarkably neat; 

But now he sucks his fingers, 

Is untidy with his soup ; 
And when I ask the reason, 
He says he 's "playing Goop." 

M. C. S— . 
(A long-time subscriber.) 

We are in doubt whether to regard this touching 
poem as encouraging to the editor or alarming to the 
parents of our readers. But at least it goes t© prove 
that the Goops are already a stimulating influence in 
the child-world. If it continues, who can say what the 
Goops may not accomplish? 



The recent birthday of St. Nicholas, at the comple- 
tion of its first quarter-century, brought a number of 
congratulatory letters. These are so cordial and kindly 
that we yield to the temptation of quoting from a few : 

Having known you from the beginning up to the 
present day, I wish to tender my congratulations and 
good wishes. . . . While St. Nicholas is a "joy for- 
ever," the " baby " is not here to enjoy it, and it is 
handed down to the next generation — the little grand- 
daughter who is just the age her father was when St. 
Nicholas was taken for him. ... I cannot tell what 
pleasure and profit you have been to us all these twenty- 
five years. We have kept you, bound and unbound, — 
not one is missing, — and we have shared you with cousins 
and aunts and uncles. . . . My own humble opinion is 
that St. Nicholas stands unrivaled and unequaled, and 
I hope it may last as long as there are people to read it. 
. . . With hearty congratulations, I am, 

Faithfully yours, Laura G. M . 

San Francisco, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : When the postman handed me 
the November number this morning, and I slipped the 
cover off to see what interesting thing I should find 
within your pages to read, I noticed the first thing that 
this was your twenty-fifth birthday. 

It is not so very long ago that I regarded twenty-five 
years as a great age for either a human being or a maga- 
zine, and yet I can very easily remember the very first 
St. Nicholas that ever was, and how I took it into my 
hands and read it one winter day so many years ago. It 
does not seem so many years ago to look back upon ; 
but it must be. 

I was only a little fellow seven years old, but fond of 
reading ; for I was sickly, and could not play with other 
boys. I was living in Providence, Rhode Island, then, 
and had a friend who was librarian at what seemed to me 
then the largest library in the world, on Eddy Street. 
Almost every afternoon, when I could get downtown, I 
was in the library, reading almost anything I could get 
hold of, and devouring the few papers for boys and girls 
which the library took. One afternoon, as I entered the 
library, my friend called to me: "Come here, Bertie"; 
and when I approached, she continued : " Here is a new 
magazine we are taking. It looks very nice." And 
she handed me the first number of St. Nicholas. 



I do not remember much about that first number, but 
I do remember the continued stories that I read through 
that year and the ones immediately following. There 
was one story about " Nimpo's Troubles " that I found 
very fascinating; another entitled, " What Might Have 
Been Expected," which I understood only in parts at that 
time, but which I have enjoyed since then. Then there 
came a story by dear old J. T. Trowbridge, about " Jack 
Hazard," with whom I had already become acquainted 
somewhere, and his friend's adventures in New York. 
I remember that a succeeding year finished "Jack Haz- 
ard " off as the "Young Surveyor," and that I mourned 
because there was no more of him, he having evidently 
grown up and become uninteresting ! 

Some time after that — my memory is a little misty as 
to the year — there was a California story, " The Boy 
Emigrants," which I read over and over, never expecting 
that I would be able sometime to visit the ground writ- 
ten about, where the boy emigrants carried on their 
search for gold. But I have done that very thing, and, 
reading over that book since I have lived in the State, I 
could almost point out the spots the boys of that story had 
used to pitch their tents. 

But I could talk for hours about the stories that I have 
read in your dear pages. You have been a friend to me 
many a time, and to-day you are just as welcome, when 
you come every month, as you used to be in the days 
when I was wearing knickerbockers, and used to wish 
that vacations came oftener to interrupt my school-days. 

I feel old to-night, as I sit here writing, and a boy of 
my own, older than I was when I first read you, sits on 
the other side of the room reading the story of " Chug- 
gins " to his younger brother and some of the other boys 
who live with me. But they did not get hold of you un- 
til I had myself read about Chuggins, and " Margaret 
Clyde's Extra," and Jimpson, and until I had a glance at 
the story by my old friend Henty. 

I am sorry that Trowbridge is not there this time ; but, 
dear me ! he has just finished a story, and it was as good 
as ever, and I ought to be glad to read new authors, I 
suppose, especially when they can write such stories as 
"Chuggins." I see the tears running down the cheeks 
of the little fellows as my boy reads about the soldier 
who lay with his mouth forming a hurrah, but a bullet- 
hole in his forehead, and their faces express strong ap- 
proval of Master Chuggins's couise in taking the rifle. 

But I am talking too much. I only wanted to write 
once, since I have never before written to you, to con- 
gratulate you on your birthday, and to wish you many 
happy returns of the day, while I hope to see and read 
you as many years as I have already known and loved 
you. Your affectionate reader, 

A. H. H- — . 

St. Nicholas has been a visitor in my family for 
fourteen years, and I have sent it regularly to several 
families who have young children. I only wish I was 
able to place it in every household, as I consider it a 
genuine missionary. There is a bright young man in 
college to-day, in northern New York State, who re- 
ceived his first love for and interest in study, his first 
impetus toward an education, through reading St. Nich- 
olas, which I sent him until he had outgrown it, when 
I transferred it to a younger child. ' 

Helen A. W. C . 

The author of " Denise and Ned Toodles," writes : 

From the unique cover of the November number we 
learn that congratulations are in order. Accept, I pray 



261 



262 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



you, our heartiest ones, and our warmest wishes for 
many prosperous years. I may say with propriety, I 
hope, that we are firmly convinced that St. Nicholas 
has no rival. To big folk and little folk it is a source of 
unqualified delight, and ever since it first entered our 
home, twenty-two years ago, it has held a paramount place 
in our affections, for we look upon it as an old friend, and 
our little daughter now takes the same delight in its pages 
that her mother took " When Life was Young." Ac- 
cept, my dear Mrs. Dodge, our heartiest good wishes and 
kindest regards. Very sincerely yours, 

Gabrielle E. Jackson. 



successful enterprise, which was more than half the 
amount which we had expected to raise altogether. 
Believe me, ever An Interested Reader. 



In the " Letter-box " of the December number there 
was a rhyme riddle which was so easy that it was not 
necessary to say that the answer is " pajamas." 



Belleview, Escambia County, Fla. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am a boy aged ten. We went 
camping out on Escambia Bay, on a side-track of the 
Louisville and Nashville Railroad. We had a large piece 
of canvas fixed on the beach, and it was nice and cool under 
it. There were three hammocks, a table, and some chairs 
under it. I liked to go up in the woods, where there were 
plenty of wild flowers and ravines. We had a boat, 
and it was named after my little sister Mercedes. A man 
who took care of the lighthouse lived in a little house on 
the water. He had two boats which he used to go to the 
light in. There was a railroad-bridge across the bay, 
and a draw in the middle of it. Tugs pass through 
it which go to the mouth of the Escambia River, about 
ten miles up the bay, for lumber. 

Your friend, Willie Saltmarsh. 



Boston, Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas: Your readers may remember 
a play called " An Evening with Mother Hubbard," 
which appeared in your January number. If they do, 
it may interest them to know that it was played by a 
party of boys at Beverly this summer with great success. 
It was given for charity, and the money received was to 
be sent to the hospitals down South in order to help 
the wounded soldiers. Our Golf Club got up the en- 
tertainment. We had considerable difficulty in decid- 
ing what to play, as we did not wish_a very long play; 
finally one of the boys proposed " An Evening with 
Mother Hubbard," and it proved to be just the thing ! 

I was fortunate enough to be one of the members 
who was elected to take part, and it was decided that I 
should appear as " Little Boy Blue." 

All of us were obliged to provide our own costumes. 
Fortunately, I soon procured a suitable one; but the 
fellows who took the part of "Bo-peep," "Jill," etc., 
found some difficulty in procuring their costumes. We 
all learned our parts in an amazingly short time, and 
in two weeks everything was in readiness. The play 
was to be performed in our club-room, and only thirty- 
five people could look on, as the room could not, with 
the addition of the stage, hold more than that number 
of chairs conveniently. 

All the seats were sold at seventy-five cents, and those 
in the front row went for a dollar. Every seat was 
taken, and the play was such a success that we played 
it the following week, once again with equal luck. After 
the acting we had tableaux, and many pieces by Vir- 
ginia Woodward Cloud which have appeared in your 
numbers, as well as other poems, were spoken. 

We received in all about fift"-five dollars from our 



Milton, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Milton is a very pretty place. 
I am a little American girl of eight years. I have 
taken you for two years, and like you very much. I 
was so sorry when " Denise and Ned Toodles " was 
ended. I have two sisters and two brothers. They are 
aged six, five, three, and two. We have over a hundred 
hens, and sometimes in the evenings we go with father 
and help him pick up the eggs. 

We have a doll-house that has six rooms. They are 
kitchen, dining-room, parlor, nursery, and two bed- 
rooms. I have just begun to have a stamp collection. 
I remain your loving reader, 

Marian S. Weld. 



Italy. 

Dear St. Nicholas: My best present last Christ- 
mas was a six months' volume of St. Nick, and now I 
can't tell you what a pleasure it is for me to see you ar- 
rive every month, ready for a second volume. I am 
nine years old, and was born and always lived in Italy. 
This summer my parents and I stayed up in the Ap- 
ennines at Vallombrosa, three thousand feet above sea- 
level, in the fir forests. The English poet, Milton, is 
said to have been up there in 1638, and mentions Val- 
lombrosa in his poem, " Paradise Lost." We live in 
the country, with vineyards and olive-trees around us. 
Our house was built about 1600, and is called Meretto, 
which was the name of a town once standing on this 
hill in 1300. In those days the noblemen who lived 
here were truly robber chieftains, and used to watch 
for loaded mules coming up the valley to a distant mon- 
astery, and carry them off to their castles. These titled 
highwaymen were the terror of the valley. The great 
poet Dante was denied entrance to the castle (now a 
ruin) owned by this count, and it was a bitterly cold 
winter's night ; so Dante, when he wrote his poem about 
the Inferno, put the count into it. 

My pet dog is a Pomeranian, and always gives me 
his paw. The bull-terrier, " Punch," is very funny, 
and the white sheep-dog is very clever indeed. 

Very soon the vintage begins, and then I go and help 
with my scissors, for knives spoil the bunches. I en- 
joy your riddles so much, and I guess quite a number 
of them. The stories I liked best are " With the Black 
Prince " and " Through the Earth " ; also " Denise and 
Ned Toodles." I know the names of all the American 
battle-ships. About two miles off there is a place where 
the ancient Roman soldiers had their winter quarters, 
and in the fields are found now and then some Roman 
coins of the period 62 B. c. I would be so pleased if you 
were kind enough to like my letter. 

Yours affectionately, Dino Spranger. 



St. NICHOLAS regrets that it cannot find room this 
month for more of the interesting letters it has received. 
The following are a few of the correspondents who have 
written to the Letter-Box, and we thank them for the 
courteous attention to the magazine, and regret that we 
cannot do more than acknowledge their letters here : 
George Harrison Ehline, P. H. Turner, Elizabeth Peter- 
man, Shirley H. Stonn, Helen Clark, Keller E. Rockey, 
Donald Wiley, Dorothy Clark. 



ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER. 



Double Acrostic. Primals, Browning; finals, Tennyson. 
Cross-words : i. Brant. 2. Rinse. 3. Oaken. 4. Waken. 5. 
Noisy. 6. Idols. 7. Negro. 8. Groan. 

Rhymed Beheadings. Wheel. 

Novel Double Acrostic. From 1 to 9, Christmas; from 10 to 
18, festal day. Cross-words: 1. Coif. 2. Hoopoe. 3. Radi- 
ates. 4. Inducement. 5. Sarsaparilla. 6. Trochaical. 7. Mani- 
fold. 8. Acacia. 9. Stay. 

Word-squares. I. 1. Iron. 2. Ride. 3. Odds. 4. Nest. 
II. 1. Year. 2. Else. 3. Asks. 4. Rest. III. r. Sale. 2. 
Amit. 3. Lion. 4. Etna. IV. 1. Toad. 2. Ogre. 3. Arms. 
4. Desk. 

Riddle. A bed. 

Diamond, r. S. 2. Aim. 3. Armor. 4. Similar. 5. Moldy. 
6. Ray. 7. R. 

To our Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the October Number were received, before October rsth, from Josephine Sherwood — 
Louise Ingham Adams — Clara A. Anthony — Mabel M. Johns — Allil and Adi — Nessie and Freddie — " Dondy Small " — Helen C 
McCleary. 

Answers to Puzzles in the October Number were received, before October 15th, from Reddy and Heady. 2 — Ida A. Coale, 
1 — Armour P. Payson, 2 — Shirley Bangs, 2 — Sadie McGiehan, 1 — Marion Carleton, 2 — Samuel W. Fernberger, 2 — Paul Reese, 9 — 
Helen Smith, r — Edith Osborn, 1 — Mary Crosby, 1 — Marguerite Wells, 1 — S. C. Chew, 1 — Este Paxton, 3 — Katharine W. Stratton, 
5 — Paul Lachman, 1 — Gertrude Crosier, 2 — Eleanor Elizabeth Washburn, 7 — Mary K. Rake, 2 — Mama and Betty, 9 — K. S. and Co, 
7 — Helen W. Johns, 8 — H. A. R., 10 — Musgrave Hyde, 6 — Uncle George and Aunt Emily, 4 — Annie F. Wildman, r — "The B. 
and two J.'s," 5 — Albert L. Baum, 5 — "Maple Leaf Trio," 7 — F. C. T. and W. N. T., 9 — Anna Sara Longacre, 1 — Agalha Craies, 2 
— Fred B. Hallock, 1 — Florence and Edna, 4 — C. D. Lauer and Co., io — Freddie S. and Harold J. Frambach, 3 — Sigourney Fay 
Nininger, 9. 



Illustrated Primal Acrostic Santa Claus. 1. Sword. 2. 
Apples. 3. Nuts. 4. Trumpet. 5. Abacus. 6. Cake. 7. Lute. 

8. Accordion. 9. Uniform. 10. Slate. 
Charade. Seldom. 

Zigzag. George Washington. Cross-words: 1. Good. 2. 
Peer. 3. Moor. 4. Bear. 5. Sage. 6. Feat. 7. Wily. 8. Bard. 

9. Mast 10. Rash. ri. Grip. 12. Anon. 13. Gale. 14. Star. 
15. Room. 16. Pawn. 

Framed Word-square. From 1 to 2, borrower; r to 3, blow- 
hole ; 2 to 4, recreate ; 3 to 4, escalade ; 1 to 5, bat ; 2 to 6, rue ; 4 to 
8, ear; 3 to 7, eye. Included square: r. Tare. 2. Avow. 3. 
Rose. 4. Ewer. 

Central Acrostic. Mesopotamia. Cross-words: 1. James. 
2. Creed. 3. Misty. 4. Spout. 5. Poppy. 6. Frown. 7. Mates. 
8. Crane. 9. Humid. 10. Juice, n. Twain. 

Concealed Double Acrostic. Primals, Farewell; finals, De- 
cember. Cross-words: r. Fund. 2. Ache. 3. Relic. 4. Ermine. 
5. William. 6. Ebb. 7. League. 8. Litter. 



CHARADE. 

My first on a dial you may see ; 

My last are Oriental tales ; 
My whole I hope you will do to me, 

If this attempt to please you fails. 

MARY A. GIBSON. 

DIAMOND. 



10. Take a bee from a thicket, and leave a common 
garden utensil. 

11. Take a bee from a hoarse cry, and leave a line of 
light. 

12. Take a bee from mild, and leave to catch and bring 
to shore. 

13. Take a bee from the strand, and leave every. 

14. Take a bee from extending far and wide, and leave 
a highway. achille poirier. 



1. In space. 2. An animal. 3. To dwell. 4. A 
slender point. 5. To draw out. 6. One half of a word 
meaning " chooses by ballot." 7. In space. M. D. 



INCOMPLETE RHOMBOID. 



A SWARM OF BEES. 



Example: Take a bee from to lie in warmth, and 
leave to request. Answer, b-ask. 

1. Take a bee from yeast, and leave part of the body. 

2. Take a bee from a hand-carriage, and leave a 
weapon. 

3. Take a bee from a fish, and leave a quadruped. 

4. Take a bee from a hunting-dog, and leave a bird. 

5. Take a bee from a wild animal, and leave part of 
the body. 

6. Take a bee from a hollow, metallic vessel, and 
leave part of a house. 

7. Take a bee from a place of worship, and leave a 
feminine name. 

8. Take a bee from a note, and leave indisposed. 

9. Take a bee from dim or watery, and leave a very 
unfortunate old man. 



Reading Across : i. To encounter. 2. Profound. 
3. A sly look. 4. Humble. 5. A nobleman. 6. Dregs 



of wine. 7. Want 
kind of bird. 

Downward: i. 
name. 3. A fish, 
bird. 6. A spool. 
9. Part of a flower. 



To eat. 9. To think. 10. A 



A thousand. 2. A masculine nick- 

4. To swarm. 5. The cry of a 

7. Sharp. 8. A chain of rocks. 

10. An animal. II. A river. 12. 

A pronoun. 13. Five hundred. 

The letters represented by stars are all the same. 

CAROLYN WELLS. 



263 



264 



THE RIDDLE-BOX. 




Johnny Showman wanted to give an exhibition of 
birds and animals. The only drawback was that he had 
none. But after ransacking the house from garret to 
cellar, he placed on exhibition the twelve articles pictured, 
which, he said, represented his menagerie. What birds 
and animals were shown ? F. H. w. 

WORD-SQUARE PYRAMID. 



11. Take a common article from heath, and leave to 
give audience or attention to. 

12. Take consumed from irrigating, and leave to 
torture. 

Each word removed contains the same number of let- 
ters. When these are placed one below another, the 
central letters will spell the name of a January festival. 

c. D. 
WORD-SQUARE. 

I. One who supports a heavy burden. 2. To ex- 
press gratitude. 3. The first half of the name of a famous 
poem. 4. A little ring. 5. A fish. e. b. r. 



I. Upper Square : 1. A row. 2. An abbreviation 
often seen above a crucifix. 3. Formerly. 4. A 
feminine name. 

II. Left-hand Square: i. To burn. 2. A small 
animal. 3. Surface. 4. To raise up. 

III. Right-hand Square, i. Capable. 2. A 
color. 3. To soothe. 4. Certain fishes. E. blanc. 

WORD-SYNCOPATIONS. 

Example : Take principal from stayed, and leave a 
coarse plant. Answer, Re-main-ed, reed. 

1. Take the personification of discord from revolves, 
and leave decays. 

2. Take to be indebted to from bestowed copiously, 
and leave a fragment. 

3. Take novel from renovated, and leave a musical 
instrument. 

4. Take the entire sum from a rude couch, and leave 
to fondle. 

5. Take astern from deceitful, and leave to lament 
audibly. 

6. Take one of a certain tribe of Indians from defiles, 
and leave clips. 

7. Take a pronoun from ecclesiastical societies, and 
leave a famous city. 

8. Take a tavern from trespassing, and leave to utter 
musical sounds. 

9. Take part of a fish from explained, and leave an 
act. 

10. Take to incite from to impoverish, and leave to 
hinder. 



CONCEALED CENTRAL ACROSTIC. 

Search well for hidden words to find 
What January brings to mind — 
The first that ushers in the year, 
The first to come, the earliest here. 

CROSS-WORDS. 

1. " If I be rude," remarked the dude, 

" 'T will shatter the subjunctive mood; 

2. " If I be rough, if I be tough, 

You '11 see the reason plain enough. 

3. " I crave excuse for talk so loose ; 

'T is slang lends English to abuse. 

4. " And 't is my aim to scorch the same 

With inextinguishable flame. 

5. " While standing here in nervous fear, 

Lest faulty syntax strike my ear, 

6. " My heart is sore in thinking o'er 

My gilded ancestry of yore. 

7. " They could not be aroused to see 

The stir of life in tweedledee. 

8. " But I confess what none could guess, — 

That one subjunctive, more or less, 

9. " Has wrung my pride until I cried, 

And took some anti-germicide." 

ANNA M. PRATT. 



THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK. 




WASHINGTON FIRING THE FIRST GUN AT THE SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. 

(see page 349.) 



ST. NICHOLAS. 



Vol. XXVI. 



FEBRUARY, 1899. 



No. 4. 



AMATUA'S SAILOR. 

{A Story of the Great Samoan Hurricane.') 



By Lloyd Osbourne. 



It is hard to begin a story when it is about road as fast as his little legs would carry him, 

things and places and people all unknown to and close in chase, like a hawk after a sparrow, 

the readers of St. Nicholas; and yet, if I was a grizzled man-of-war's-man with a switch, 

explained too much as I went along, there The road was long and straight ; on both sides 

would be little room to tell about Amatua, and it was bordered by prickly hedges bright with 

none at all for his sailor. So I shall not tell limes, and as impenetrable as a tangle of barbed 

you why there were seven big men-of-war tug- wire. At every step the white man gained on 

ging at their anchors in Apia Bay one wild the boy, until the latter could almost hear the 

March morning ; nor why there were hundreds hoarse and angry breath of his pursuer. Amatua 

of brown men lying snug in the forest, thirsting stopped short, and before he could even so 

for the blood of many hundreds more who were much as turn he found himself in a grip of iron, 

walking unconcernedly about the little town; Whish, whish, whish! dashed the switch on his 

nor why the consul's front garden lay thick with bare back and legs, keen and stinging like the 

wounded Samoans, and his back garden with bite of fire-ants. It took all the little fellow's 

new-made graves ; nor why the white men manliness to keep him from bellowing aloud, 

aboard the ships were just as anxious as the The tears sprang to his eyes, — even the son of 

brown men on shore to shoot each other at a chief is human like the rest of us, — but he 

the word of command. Amatua did not know would not cry. 

much about it himself, for he was only eight "What 's all this ? " rang out a voice, and a 

years old — a sturdy little fellow, with a skin the white man reined in his horse beside them — a 

color of new coffee. Of course he realized tall man in spectacles, who spoke with the air 

something of what was going on ; he knew that of authority. 

when you passed a German sailor you made a The sailor touched his hat. " Why, sir, you 'd 

face at him, and when you met an American scarcely believe it," he said, " the fuss I 've had 

you said, "How do you do, chief? "in the with this young savage ! First he tried to lose 

friendliest way ; and he knew that he prayed me in the woods. I did n't think nothing of 

both night and morning for his dear father who that ; but when he got me into a river for a 

was in the forest with the patriot king. swim, and then made off with my clothes, and 

On the particular morning of which we write, hid 'em under a tree — I might have been look- 

Amatua was running down a beautifully shaded ing for 'em yet, me that must be aboard my 

Copyright, 1899, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 
267 



268 



AMATUA S SAILOR. 



[Feb. 



ship at twelve o'clock. Why, it might have 
cost me my good-conduct stripe ! I tell you, I 
never dreamed of such a thing, for me and Am 
have been friends ever since the first day I came 
ashore. He 's no better than a treacherous 
little what-d'ye-call-'em!" 

" The chief says you hid his clothes," said 
the stranger, in the native language. " He says 
you tried to lose him in the woods." 

" Ask him if I have n't always been a good 
friend to him," said the sailor. " Ask him 
who gave him the knife with the lanyard, and 
who made him the little spear to jug fish on the 
reef. Just you ask him that, sir." 

•' Your Highness," said Amatua, in his own 
tongue, " Bill does n't understand. I love Bill, 
and I don't want him to drown. I want to 
save Bill's high-chief life." 

" And so you hid Bill's clothes," said the 
stranger. " That was a fine way to help 
him ! " 

" Be not angry," said Amatua. " Great is the 
wisdom of white chiefs in innumerable things, 
but there are some little common, worthless 
things that they don't understand at all." 

" Tell him I 'm a leading seaman, sir," went 
on Bill, who of course understood not a word 
of what Amatua was saying, and whose red and 
tired face still showed the indignation under 
which he was laboring. " Tell him I should 
have been a disgraced man." 

" The old women say that a great evil is 
about to befall us," said Amatua gravely, en- 
tirely disregarding Bill. " Everybody is talk- 
ing of it, your Highness, even the wise minister 
from Malua College, Toalua, whose wisdom is 
like that of Solomon. There 's to be a storm 
from the north — a storm that will break the 
ships into ten thousand pieces, and line the beach 
with dead. Last night I could n't sleep for 
thinking of Bill. Then I said to myself, ' I will 
lose Bill for two days in the woods, and then 
he won't be drowned at all.' But Bill is wise, 
and made the sun guide him back to the right 
road. Then I made Bill bathe, and tried to 
steal his clothes. But Bill looked and looked 
and looked, and when he found them he thought 
I was a very bad boy." 

The stranger laughed, and translated all this 
long explanation to Bill. 



" Goodness gracious ! " said Bill. " Do you 
mean that the kid believes this fool superstition, 
and was trying to save me from the wreck ? " 

" That 's it," said the stranger. " I 've known 
Amatua for a long time, and I think he 's a 
pretty square boy." 

" Why, bless his little heart," said the sailor, 
catching up the boy in his arms, " I might 
have known he could n't mean no harm to his 
poor old Uncle Billy ! I tell you, we 've been 
like father and son, me and Am has, up to this 
little picnic. But just you say to him, sir, that, 
storm or no storm, Bill's place is the post of 
duty, and that he 'd rather die there than live 
to be disgraced." 

But the white man had other work to do than 
translating for Bill and Amatua, and so he rode 
off and left them to trudge along on foot. Half 
an hour later they reached the beach, and saw 
the ships-of-war tugging heavily at their anchors. 
The weather looked wild and threatening, and 
a leaden surf was bursting furiously on the outer 
reefs. It appeared no easy matter to get Bill 
into the boat that was awaiting him, for she 
was full of men bound for the ship, and ill to 
manage in the ebb and sweep of the seas. Bill's 
face grew stern as he stared before him. He 
walked to the end of the wharf in a kind of 
maze, and took another long, hawk-like look to 
seaward, never heeding the shaking woodwork 
nor the breakers that wet him to the knee. 
There was something ominous to Amatua in the 
sight of those deep-rolling ships and the pier- 
cing brightness of their ensigns and signal-flags. 
He was troubled, too, to see Bill so reckless in 
wetting his beautiful blue trousers and redu- 
cing his "sliding feet," as the natives call shoes, 
his lovely patent-leather, silk-laced seevae, to a 
state of pulp. He tried to draw him back, and 
pointed to the shoes as a receding wave left 
them once more to view. But Bill only laughed, 
— not one of his big hearty laughs, but the 
ghost of a laugh, — and a queer look came into 
his blue eyes. He walked slowly back to the 
boat, which was still rising and falling beside 
the wharf, with its load of silent men. Sud- 
denly he ran his hand into his pocket, and al- 
most before Amatua could realize what it all 
meant, he felt Bill's watch in his hand, and a 
round, heavy thing which was unmistakably a 



1899.J 



AMATUAS SAILOR. 



269 



dollar, and something soft and silken that could 
be nothing else than the sailor's precious hand- 
kerchief. A second later Bill was in the boat, 
the tiller under his arm, while a dozen backs 
bent to drive him seaward. Amatua stood on the 
wharf and howled. He forgot the watch and 
the dollar and the silk handkerchief; he thought 
only of Bill, — his friend Bill, — the proud chief 
who would rather die at his post than find 
safety on shore. " Come back, Bill," he cried, 
and ran out to the end of the wharf, never car- 
ing for the waves that were dashing higher and 
higher over the crazy fabric. But the boat 
held on her relentless way, dipping into the seas 
until she was lost to view, or rising like a storm- 
bird on some cresting comber until she vanished 
behind the towering " Trenton." 

Amatua did not sob for long. He was a 
practical little boy, and knew that it could not 
help Bill, — poor Bill ! — who already had all 
the salt water he cared about. So Amatua 
made his way back to land, and sought out a 
quiet spot where he could look at his new trea- 
sure and calculate on the most profitable way 
of spending his dollar. You could n't say that 
the dollar " burned a hole in his pocket," for 
Amatua did n't use pockets, and his only 
clothes consisted of a little kilt of very dingy 
cotton ; but he was just as anxious to spend it 
as an American boy with ten pockets. First 
he looked at the watch. It was a lovely watch. 
It was none of your puny watches such as 
white ladies wear, but a thumping big chief of 
a watch, thick and heavy, with a tick like a 
missionary clock. It was of shining silver, and 
the back of it was all engraved and carved with 
ships and dolphins. Bill had showed it to him 
a thousand times when they had strolled about 
the town, and had gone, hand in hand, in search 
of many a pleasant adventure. It brought the 
tears to Amatua's eyes to recall it all, and he 
pushed the watch aside to have a look at the 
handkerchief. This was another old friend. It 
was one of the most lovely red and green and 
blue and yellow, criss-crossed with the colors of 
a rainbow, and it warmed the eyes of him who 
looked upon it. It was of the softest, thickest 
silk, such as girls all delight in ; and it was like 
the watch in its generous size. 

There was nothing small about Bill. Even 



the dollar seemed bigger and fatter than any 
Amatua had seen; but then it must be remem- 
bered that dollars had seldom come his way. 
Oh, that dollar ! How was he to spend it so 
that it would reach as far as two dollars? — a 
financial problem every one has had to grapple 
with at some time or another. 

He was well up in the price of hardtack. 
The price fluctuated in Apia — all the way 
from twelve for a quarter up to eighteen for a 
quarter. Quality did n't count ; at any rate, 
Amatua was not one of those boys who mind a 
little mustiness in their hardtack, or that slight 
suspicion of rancid whale-oil which was a char- 
acteristic of the cheaper article. Hardtack was 
hardtack, and eighteen hardtack were six better 
than twelve hardtack. Here was one quarter 
gone, and hardtack made way for soap. Yes, 
he must have soap. Even yesterday old Hen'an 
had said : " War 's a terrible thing. It makes 
one's heart shake like a little mouse in one's 
body. But lack of soap is worse than war. 
You can get used to war; but who ever got 
used to going without soap ? " Yes, there must 
be soap to gladden old Lu'an and serve to wash 
his kilt, which, truth to tell, sadly needed that 
attention. 

This meant another quarter. As to the third 
purchase there could be no manner of doubt. 
Some kava, the white, dry root which, pounded 
in water and strained by the dexterous use of a 
wisp of fiber, supplies the Samoan for the lack 
of every comfort, steeling his heart against the 
savage hardships of war, or cheering him on to 
victory when the thin ranks waver and men fall 
on every side — a mild, unexciting drink to a 
white man, who usually likens it to soapy water 
or to a medicine. Oh, how the kava would rejoice 
his father in those dismal woods, where he lay 
with the famishing army, bearing hunger, cold, 
and the misery of an unhealed wound with the 
uncomplaining fortitude of a Washington. And 
it should be none of that dusty, spotted stuff 
that so many traders sell to unknowing whites 
or natives in a hurry, but the wholesome white 
kava from Vaea, which grows the very finest in 
the South Seas. And the last quarter ? How 
was that to go ? Was it to be a new kilt, or a 
white singlet, or two rusty cans of salmon, or 
some barrel beef? Amatua would have dearly 



270 



AMATUA S SAILOR. 



[Feb. 



loved some marbles ; but in the depressed state 
of the family's finances these were not to be 
thought of. The beef was the thing, the strong 
rank beef that comes in barrels. You could 
get a slab of it for a quarter, and Latapie, the 
French trader, would give you a box of matches 
extra, or a few fish-hooks, for every quarter you 
spent at his store. Salmon was delicious, but 
Amatua had enough knowledge of practical 
common fractions to know that two cans divided 
by twenty-six gave but a small portion to each 
individual. Beef meant " the greatest hap- 
piness to the greatest number." 

Having finished his calculations, Amatua 
started off to do his shopping. Even in the 
short time he had spent in the corner of the 
ruined church the sea had noticeably risen, and 
was now thundering along the beach, while on 
the reefs its fury was truly terrible ; and a wild 
spray hung above the breakers like a mist. 
The sky was lead-color, splashed with ragged 
storm-clouds and streaked with fast-flying scud. 
At their moorings the seven ships rolled under 
until they seemed to drown the very muzzles of 
their guns ; and the inky vapor that oozed from 
their funnels, and the incessant shrill shrieking 
of the bo's'ns' whistles, all told a tale of brisk 
and anxious preparation. " Oh, poor Bill ! " 
thought Amatua, and looked away. The wharf 
from which he had seen the last of his friend 
was already a wreck, and nothing showed of it 
but the jagged stumps as the seas rolled back. 

Two boys told him that a boat of Misi had 
been smashed to pieces, and that a big whaler 
from Lufilufi that pulled fifty oars had shared 
the same fate. Knots of anxious-looking white 
men stood gazing out to sea ; the provost 
guards from the ships were ransacking the town 
for the few men they still missed, and they 
were told to hurry or their boats would never 
live to carry them back. There was a general 
air of unrest, inquietude, and subdued excite- 
ment ; people were nailing up their windows 
and drawing in their boats before the en- 
croaching ocean; and the impressiveness of the 
situation was not a little heightened by the 
heavy guard of blue-jackets that were lined up 
before the German consulate, and the throngs 
of Tamasese's warriors that swarmed every- 
where about, fierce of mien in that unfriendly 



town, with their faces blackened for war, and 
their hands encumbered with rifles and shining 
head-knives. 

But Amatua had no time to think of such 
things; the signs and marks of war were fa- 
miliar to him, and the armed and overbearing 
adversaries of his tribe and people were no 
longer so terrible as they once had been. The 
increasing roar of the sea and the wild sky that 
spoke of the impending gale kept the thought 
of Bill ever close to his heart, and he went 
about his business with none of the gaiety that 
the spending of money once involved. Not 
that he forgot his prudence or his skill at bar- 
gaining in the anxiety for Bill that tore his little 
heart. By dint of walking and chaffering he 
came off with twenty hardtack for his first 
quarter; with the soap he extorted a package 
of starch ; and after he had sniffed beef all the 
way from Sogi to Vaiala, — a distance of two 
miles, — he became the proprietor of a hunk at 
least six ounces heavier than the ruling price 
allowed. The kava was of a superb quality, fit 
for a king to drink. 

It was late when Amatua got home and 
crept into the great bee-hive of a house that 
had been the pride of his father's heart. The 
girls shouted as they saw him, and old Lu'an 
clapped her hands as her quick eyes perceived 
the soap. His mother alone looked sad — his 
poor mother, who used to be so gay and full of 
fun in that happy time before the war. She 
had never been the same since her cousin, the 
divinity student, had slain her brother on the 
battle-field of Luatuanuu, — that terrible battle- 
field where the best blood of Samoa had been 
poured out like water. 

She looked anxiously at Amatua's parcels, 
and motioned him to her side, asking him 
in a low voice as to where and how he had got 
them. She brightened as he explained matters, 
for she had been at a loss to understand this 
sudden wealth, and was apprehensive that the 
boy had been dishonest. 

" It was this way," said Amatua. " Bill 
and I are brothers. What is mine is Bill's. 
What is Bill's is mine. We are two, but in 
heart we are one. That 's how I under- 
stand Bill, though he talks only the white 
man's stuttering." (So the natives call a foreign 



AMATUAS SAILOR. 



271 



language.) " ' Amatua,' he said, just before he 
got into the boat, — I mean what he said in his 
heart, for there was not time for words, — ' we 
are all of us in God's high-chief hands this day. 
A storm is coming, and my place in on my ship, 
where I shall live or be cast away, as God wills. 
Take you this dollar and spend it with care for 
the comfort of all our family; take my very 
valuable watch, that ticks louder than a mission- 
ary clock, and my handkerchief of silk, the like 
of which there is not in Samoa, and keep 
them for me. My life is God's alone, but these 
things belong to all of our family. Stand firm 
in the love of God, and strengthen your heart 
to obey his high-chief will." 

It was late when Amatua awoke. The house 
was empty save for old Lu'an, who was kindling 
a fire with great intentness and ever so much 
blowing. A strange uproar filled the air, the 
like of which Amatua had never heard before 
— the tramp of multitudes as they rushed and 
shouted, intermingled with bursting seas, deaf- 
ening explosions, and the shrill, high scream of 
the long-expected gale. Amatua leaped from 
his mats, girded up his little kilt, and ran head- 
long into the night. It was piercing cold, and 
he shivered like a leaf, but he took thought of 
nothing. He ran for the beach, which lay at 
no great distance from his father's house, and 
was soon panting down the lane beside Mr. 
Elwood's store. It was flaming with lights and 
filled with a buzzing crowd of whites and na- 
tives ; and on the front veranda there lay the 
stark and dripping body of a sailor with a towel 
over his upturned face. The beach was 
jammed with people, and above the fury of the 
gale and the thundering breakers which threat- 
ened to engulf the very town, there rang out 
the penetrating voices of the old war-chiefs as 
they yelled their orders and formed up their 
men. Even as Amatua stood dazed and al- 
most crushed in the mob, there was a sudden 
roar, a rush of feet, and a narrow lane opened 
to a dozen powerful men springing through with 
the bodies of two sailors. One seemed dead ; 
the other's eyes were open, but he looked, oh, 
so faint and white ! 

Amatua turned and fought his way seaward, 
boring through the crowd like a little gimlet, to 



where the seas swept up to his ankles, and he 
could make out the lights of the men-of-war. 
There was a ship on the reef. He could see 
the vague tangle of her yards and rigging, and 
every wave swept in some of her crew, man 
after man — some shouting, calling, imploring 
in their agony, others lifeless and still, with 
their dead eyes raised to heaven. The Samoans 
linked arms, — a human life-line of living men, — 
and thus it was that the castaways were often 
dragged to safety. The undertow ran out like 
a mill-race ; living, breathing men were tossed 
up the beach like corks, only to be sucked back 
again to destruction. The Samoans fought with 
desperation to save the seamen's lives, and more 
than one daring soul was swept into eternity. 
The work was so exhausting that even these 
stalwart barbarians could not continue over- 
long at the life-lines; but there was never a 
lack of volunteers to continue the heroic task. 

Amatua found himself beside a man who 
had just been relieved, and was thunderstruck 
to find that it was no other than Oa, an old 
friend of his, who had been in the forest with 
the patriot king. 

" How do you happen here, Chief Oa ? " 
shouted Amatua. 

" The Tamaseses have retired on Mulinuu," 
said Oa. " It is the king's order that we come 
and save what lives we can." 

" Germans, too ? " asked Amatua, doubtfully, 
never forgetful of his father's wound, or of his 
uncle who fell at Luatuanuu. 

" We are not at war with God," said the 
chief, sternly. " To-night there is peace in 
every man's heart, save in that one consul's 
who guards his house, lest we attack him." 

Amatua stood long beside his friend, peering 
into that great void in which so many men were 
giving up their lives. Sometimes he could 
make out the dim hulls of ships when they 
loomed against the sky-line or as the heavens 
brightened for an instant. Bodies kept con- 
stantly washing in, Germans all, as Amatua 
could tell by their uniforms, or, if these were torn 
from them in the merciless waters, by the preva- 
lence of yellow hair and fair skins. Amatua 
shrank from the sight of these limp figures, and 
it was only his love for Bill that kept him on 
the watch. Poor Bill ! How had he fared this 



272 



AMATUA S SAILOR. 



[Feb. 



night ? Was he even now tumbling in the mighty 
rollers, his last duty done on this sorrowful 
earth, his brave heart still forever ? Or per- 
haps he lay, as many lay that night here and 
there about the town, wrapped thick in blan- 
kets in some white man's house or native 
chief's, safe and sound, beside a blazing fire. 

Amatua at last grew tired of waiting there be- 
side Oa. The cold ate into his very bones, and 
the crowd pressed and trampled on him with- 
out ceasing. He cared for nothing so long as 
he thought he might find Bill ; but he now de- 
spaired of that, and began to think of his tired 
little self. He forced his way back, and moved 
aimlessly along from house to house, looking in 
at the lighted windows in the vain hope of see- 
ing Bill. Of dead men there were plenty, but he 
could not bear to look at them too closely. He 
was utterly worn out by the horror and excite- 
ment he had undergone, and when his eyes closed, 
as they sometimes would, he seemed to see 
Bill's face dancing before him. He was a very 
tired little boy by the time he had made his 
way home and threw himself once again on the 
mats in that still, empty house. Sleep was just 
closing his eyes when he was surprised to hear, 
fitfully intermingled with the never-ending up- 
roar of the elements, the thrilling blare of mili- 
tary music ! Bold Kimberly had taken the 
ground in the Trenton ; and our undaunted 
admiral, menaced by instant destruction, and 
powerless to do aught until the hurricane sub- 
sided, had hoisted the Stars and Stripes, and or- 
dered up the band to play on the poop-deck ! 

What American will ever forget the hurri- 
cane of 1889, or hear the name of that lion- 
hearted seaman without emotion ? 

It was a strange sight that met Amatua's 
gaze the next day, as he made his way to the 
shore. The wind had fallen, and the moun- 
tainous waves of the previous night had given 
way to a heavy ground-swell. But the ships, 
the wreckage of ships, the ten thousand and 
one things — the million and one things — which 
lined the beach for a distance of two miles ! 
One German man-of-war had gone down with 
every soul on board; another — the " Adler " — 
lay broken-backed and sideways on the reef; 
the " Olga " had been run ashore, and looked 
none the worse for her adventure. The United 



States ship " Vandalia " was a total wreck, and 
half under water ; close to her lay the Trenton, 
with her gun-deck awash ; and within a pistol- 
shot of both was the old " Nipsic," with her 
nose high on land. The British ship, the " Cal- 
liope," was nowhere to be seen, having forced 
her way to sea in the teeth of the hurricane. 

Could you imagine a giant taking up a good- 
sized house and rinsing it in a good-sized bay 
until it was gutted of its contents ? But instead 
of a house, think of a ship, — four ships, — the 
least one among them twelve hundred tons, 
and the largest what boys would call a " whop- 
per," with a crew of six hundred men and 
twenty officers, — and try to picture to yourself 
what lay strewn on Apia beach that morning ! 
Amatua went almost crazy at the sight. He ran 
hither and thither, picking up one thing and 
then throwing it away for another he liked 
better : here an officer's full-dress coat gleam- 
ing with gold lace, there a photograph-album in 
a woeful state, some twisted rifles, and a broom 
— everywhere an extraordinary hotchpotch of 
things diverse and innumerable. Amatua found 
an elegant sword not a bit the worse for its trip 
ashore, an officer's gold-laced cap, and a little 
box full of pins and needles and sewing-gear 
and old letters — such as sailors call their ditty- 
box. He would also have carried off a tempt- 
ing young cannon had it weighed anything 
under a quarter of a ton ; as it was, he covered 
it with sand, and stood up the broom to mark 
the place, which, strange to say, he has never 
been able to find since. He got a cracked bell 
next, a can of pork and beans, a bottle of var- 
nish, a one-pound Hotchkiss shell (loaded), a 
big platter, and a German flag ! This he thought 
enough for one load and made his triumphant 
way home, where he tried pork and beans for 
the first time in his life — and did n't like them. 

It would have fared badly with him, for there 
was nothing in the house for him to eat save 
a few green bananas, had it not been for the 
Samoan pastor next door. The pastor had 
hauled a seven hundred pound barrel of prime 
mess pork out of old ocean's maw, and in the 
fullness of his heart he was dividing slabs of it 
among his parishioners. Another relative had 
"salvaged" eleven cans of cracker pulp, which, 
although a trifle salt, was good enough to eat. 



AMATUA S SAILOR. 



273 




'AMATUA Kl'SHtD TOWAK 



In fact, Amatua ate a rather hearty breakfast, 
and lingered longer over it than perhaps was 
well for the best interests of his family. By the 
time he had returned to the beach the cream 
had been skimmed from the milk. True, there 
was no lack of machinery and old iron, and 
mountains of tangled rope and other ship's 
gear; but there was no longer the gorgeous pro- 
fusion of smaller articles, for ten thousand 
busy hands had been at work since dawn. 
Amatua searched for an hour, and got no more 
than a squashy stamp-album and a musical box 
in the last stages of dissolution. 

He realized regretfully that he could hope 
for nothing more, and after trading his album 
to a half-caste boy for a piece of lead, and ex- 
changing the musical box for six marbles, he 
again bent his energies to the finding of Bill. 



For fear of a conflict, the naval commanders 
had divided their forces. The Germans lay at 
one end of the town, the Americans at the 
other, and armed sentries paced between. 
Amatua had never seen so many white men in 
his life, and he knew scarcely which way to 
turn first. He was bewildered by the jostling, 
merry host that encompassed him on every side, 
by the busy files that were marshaled away to 
work, the march and countermarch of disci- 
plined feet, the shrill pipe of the bo's'ns' calls, 
and the almost ceaseless bugling. He looked 
long and vainly for Bill in every nook and 
cranny of the town. He watched beside the 
Nipsic for an hour; he forced the guard-house, 
and even made his way into the improvised 
hospital, dodging the doctors and the tired 
orderlies. But all in vain. He trudged into 



274 



AMATUA S SAILOR. 



[Feb. 



Savalalo and Sougi, where the Germans lay, 
fearing lest Bill might have been thrown into 
chains by those haughty foemen ; but he found 
nothing but rows of dead, and weary men dig- 
ging graves. He stopped officers on the street, 
and kind-faced seamen and marines, and 
asked them earnestly if they had seen Bill. 
Some paid no attention to him ; others laughed 
and passed on; one man slapped him in the 
face. 

When he came back from Germantown he 
found a band playing in front of Mr. Moores's 
store, and noticed sentries about the place, and 
important-looking officers, with swords and pis- 
tols. He was told that the admiral was up- 
stairs, and that Mr. Moores's house was now the 
headquarters of the American forces. A great 
resolution welled up in Amatua's heart. If 
there was one man on earth that ought to know 
about Bill, it was the admiral. Amatua dodged 
a sentry, and running up the steps, he crept 
along the veranda, and peeped into the room 
which Kimberly had exchanged for his sea- 
swept cabin. The admiral sat at a big table 
which was strewn inches high with papers, re- 
ports, and charts. He was writing in his shirt- 
sleeves, and on the chair beside him lay his 
richly embroidered coat and gold-laced cap. 
At another table two men were also writing ; at 
another a single man was nibbling a pen as he 
stared at the paper before him. It reminded 
Amatua of the pastor's school. Half a dozen 
officers stood grouped in one corner, who were 
whispering to one another, their hands rest- 
ing on their swords. It was all as quiet as 
church, and nothing could be heard but the 
scratch of pens as they raced across the paper. 
Suddenly a frowning officer noticed Amatua at 
the door. " Orderly," he cried, " drive away 
that boy " ; and Amatua was ignominiously 
seized, led downstairs, and thrown roughly 
into the street. 

Amatua cried as though his little heart would 
break. He sat on the front porch of the house, 
careless of the swarming folk about him, and 
took a melancholy pleasure in being jostled and 
trampled on. Oh, it was a miserable world! 
Bill was gone, and any one could cuff a little 
boy who was n't big enough to hit back. He 
wished that he, too, lay numbered in that pallid 



row which he had so lately passed, asking 
nothing, wishing nothing, but a few spadefuls 
of kindly earth. More than one sailor patted 
his curly head and lifted him in the air and 
kissed him; but Amatua was too sore to care 
for such attentions. Cruel it was to think that 
the one man alone in Samoa who knew where 
to find Bill, the great chief-captain upstairs, 
was absolutely beyond his power to reach. 
This thought was unbearable to the little boy. 
He nerved himself to try again ; he recalled the 
admiral's grim face, which was not unkindly, 
though sad and stern. After all, nothing worse 
could befall him than a beating. Again he 
dodged the lower sentry, and sprang up the 
stairs like a cat. Again he gazed into that still 
room and listened to the everlasting pens. 
This time he was discovered in an instant; the 
orderly pounced at him, and Amatua, with his 
heart in his mouth, rushed toward the admiral, 
and threw himself on his knees beside him. 
The old man put a protecting arm around his 
neck, and the orderly, foiled in the chase, 
could do nothing else than salute. 
• "Anderson," said the admiral to an officer, 
" it is the second time the boy has been here. 
I tell you he is after something, and we are not 
in a position to disregard anything in this ex- 
traordinary country. He may have a message 
from King Mataafa. Send for Moores." In a 
few moments that gentleman appeared, and he 
was bidden to ask Amatua what he wanted. 
The officers gathered close behind their chief, 
and even the assiduous writers looked up. 

" What does he want ? " demanded the ad- 
miral, who had no time to spare. 

" He wants to find a sailor named Bill," cried 
Moores. " He 's afraid Bill is drowned, and 
thought he would ask you." 

Every one smiled save the admiral. "Are 
you sure that is all ? " he said. 

" He says he loved Bill very much," said 
Moores, " and has searched the beach and the 
hospital and even the lock-up without finding 
him. Says he even waited alongside the Nip- 
sic for an hour." 

" Half my men are named Bill," said Kim- 
berly ; " but I fear his Bill is numbered with the 
rest of our brave boys who went down last 
night. Moores," he went on, " take the lad 



i8g 9 . 



AMATUA S SAILOR. 



275 



below, and give him any little thing he fancies 
in the store." 

Amatua did n't quite know whether he would 
be taken out and shot, or handed over to the 
corporal's guard below for punishment, but he 
bravely tramped beside Mr. Moores, prepared 
to face the worst. He felt dizzy and faint when 
they got below, and Mr. Moores popped him 
up on the counter, and asked him, in his 



veranda, " if you have nothing better to do, 
just take that kid along with you. He 's crazy 
to find a sailor named Bill, and he is n't sure 
but that he was drowned last night. He 's so 
cut up that he won't take any marbles." 

Bostock stopped Amatua, and took his hand 
in his own. " We '11 go find Bill," he said. 

" Bill, my friend," said Amatua, drawing on 
his few words of English. 




: KE FOUND AN ELEGANT SWORD NOT A BIT THE W( 



ITS TRIP ASHORE. 



jolly way, whether he would prefer candy or 
some marbles. " The great chief-captain said 
you were a brave boy, and should have a pres- 
ent," said Mr. Moores. 

Amatua shook his head. Somehow he had 
lost interest in such trifles. " Thank his Maj- 
esty, the admiral," he said in his stately way, 
" but an aching heart takes no pleasure in such 
things. If you do not mind, I will go out and 
look again for Bill. Perhaps, if I change my 
mind, I will come back and choose marbles," 
he added cautiously; and with that he scram- 
bled off the counter and made for the door. 

"Oh, Bostock," cried Moores to a strapping 
naval officer who was lounging on the front 



" Bill, or bust ! " cried Bostock. 

Again was the search begun for Bill, along 
the main street and in the alleys and through 
the scattered native settlements behind the 
town, as far as the Uvea huts, at Vaimoso, and 
the slums of the Niene Islanders. Bostock let 
no seaman pass unnoticed, and even a heavy 
fatigue-party coming back from work on the 
wrecks — sixty men and two officers — were 
lined up at Bostock's request, and Amatua was 
led through the disciplined ranks in search of 
Bill. Even the Nipsic was boarded by the in- 
defatigable Bostock and the weary little boy ; 
and although repairs were being rushed at a 
tremendous pace, and every one looked over- 



276 



AMATUAS SAILOR. 



driven and out of temper, the huge fighting-ship 
was overhauled from top to bottom. From the 
grimy stoke-hole, where everything dripped oil 
and the heat was insupportable, to the great 
maintop, where men were busy at the rigging, 
and from the crowded quarters of the seamen 
to the sodden and salt-smelling mess-room, 
where the red came off the cushions like blood, 
the pair made their way in search of Bill. 

Bostock led him back to land, and said 
good-by to him at the corner of the Apia Hotel. 
He tried to raise his spirits, and atone for their 
failure to find Bill, by the present of a quarter. 
Amatua accepted it with quiet gratitude, al- 
though the gift had none of the cheering effect 
upon him that Bostock so desired. The little 
fellow was heart-sick and ready to cry, and all 
the quarters in the world could not have con- 
soled him for the loss of Bill. The naval offi- 
cer followed him with his eyes as he trudged 
sorrowfully home. He, too, had lost a lifelong 
friend in that awful night, and he, too, felt des- 
olate and alone. 

Amatua lost all hope of ever seeing Bill 
again, as time slipped away, and one day melted 
into another. He made friends with Bostock, 
and spent many a pleasant hour in the com- 
pany of that jovial officer. He grew immensely 
fond of him, and followed him everywhere about 
like a dog ; but for all that he did not love him 
as he had loved Bill. Those were exciting 
times in Apia, and there was much to amuse 
and distract a little boy. In the day Bill often 
passed from his thoughts, for the incessant 
panorama that life had now become precluded 
any other thought ; but at night, when he awoke 
in the early hours and heard the cocks a-call- 
ing, then it was that his heart turned to Bill and 
overflowed with tenderness for his lost friend. 

Two days after the storm — two as men count, 
but centuries in Amatua's calendar — the British 
ship Calliope returned to port, strained and 
battered by that terrible hour when, with her 
bearings red-hot, and her ponderous engines 
throbbing under the biggest head of steam they 
had ever known, she had torn her way into the 
teeth of the hurricane, inch by inch, foot by 
foot, and gained the safety of the open ocean. 
And in that hour of stress and peril, just as the 
great vessel swept past the American flagship 



Trenton, and it began to dawn on all that she 
was saved, the old admiral had bidden his men 
cheer, and six hundred throats had responded 
to his call. 

The flagship was doomed; the "Eber" had 
gone down before their eyes with every soul on 
board ; the Adler lay shattered on the reef; the 
seas were bursting over the Vandalia, and they 
could watch the men falling from her clustered 
yards and tops; and still they could cheer the 
Calliope as she steamed through the jaws of the 
pass and headed for sea ! 

I tell you, boys, that cheer will echo down 
the ages ! 

You may ask, what has all this to do with 
Amatua ? But just wait a minute. Amatua 
did n't think that the return of the Calliope 
mattered very much, either, and he paid no 
particular attention as he saw her lying in the 
bay. His little head was far too full of some- 
thing else for him to bother about another 
man-of-war. He knew all about men-of-war 
by this time, for he had the freedom of the 
Nipsic's ward-room and he took breakfast regu- 
larly with his friends, the officers. They had given 
him a gold-laced cap and a tin sword, and the 
tailor had made him a blue jacket with shoulder- 
straps and brass buttons and the stripes of a 
second lieutenant. He had his own appointed 
station when the ship beat to quarters and the 
great fighting-machine prepared for action ; for 
the Nipsic had been safely got off the reef and 
once more divided the waters of the bay. 

Amatua's duty was to hold the ship's pet 
goat, and prevent it from butting confusion 
into the gun-divisions. Amatua will never for- 
get the day when he was dragged the entire 
length of the gun-deck clinging manfully to the 
infuriated goat, while the gravity and decorum 
of the whole ship fled to the winds. Even the 
captain was convulsed ; and when at last the 
little second lieutenant got it under con- 
trol, and began to whack it with the flat of 
his little tin sword, the men choked at their 
guns, and the officers roared aloud. 

But I had begun to say that Amatua never 
thought twice of the Calliope's return, so full 
was his head with another thing. Bostock had 
promised to take him to the raft where men 
were diving for the Trenton's treasure-chest. 




"UNDERNEATH — WONDER OF WONDERS ! — THERE WAS THE FACE OF A MAN— A WHITE MAN ! " (SEE PAGE 278.) 



278 



AMATUAS SAILOR. 



It was a beautiful morning as they pulled 
out in a shore boat and reached the raft where 
the work was in progress. As the Americans 
possessed no. diving apparatus, Kane, the British 
captain, had lent them the one he carried, and 
six good men who had some experience in such 
matters. Amatua was disappointed, after he 
had got on board, to find so little to interest 
him. He examined the pump with which two 
men were keeping life in the diver below ; 
but he could not understand the sense of it, and 
the continuous clank, clank, clank soon grew 
monotonous. Except a tin pail with the men's 
lunch in it, the brass-bound breaker of drinking 
water, and some old clothes, there was nothing 
in the world to attract a little boy. Amatua 
stood beside Bostock and yawned ; the little 
second lieutenant longed to be on shore and 
playing marbles with his friends in civil life. 
He was half asleep when Bostock plucked his 
arm and pointed into the depths beneath. A 
glittering shell-fish of ponderous weight and 
monstrous size was slowly rising to the surface. 
Every one rushed to the side of the raft, save 
only the two men at the pumps, who went on 
unmoved. Amatua clung to Bostock. Higher 
and higher came the great shell-fish, until its 
great, brassy, goggling-eyed head appeared hor- 
ribly above the water. Amatua could have 
fainted. The crew behaved with incredible 
daring, and seized the great, shiny, bulging 
monster with the utmost fearlessness. It was a 
frightful sight to see it step on the raft and toil 
painfully to the center, as though it had been 
wounded in some mortal part. One of the men 
lifted a hammer as though to kill it, and began 
to tap, tap, tap on some weak spot in the neck. 
Then he threw down the hammer, detached the 
long suckers which reached from the beast's 
snout, and started to unscrew its very head 
from its body. Amatua looked on in a maze ; 
he was shaking with fear and horror; yet the 
fascination of that brassy monster drew him 
close. 

Suddenly the creature sank on its knees, and 
the man who was twisting its head off gripped 
the head in both his hands and lifted it up. 



And underneath — wonder of wonders ! — there 
was the face of a man — a white man ! 
And the white man was Bill ! 
With a gasp Amatua threw himself into his 
friend's arms, wet and dripping though he was. 
What did he care for any 
', thing, now that Bill was 
, (ji found again ! 
/ II Bostock told the seaman 
< v /If III h° w Amatua had gone to 
the admiral to find him, 
and had searched the town 
for days, until his heart was 




" amatua's duty was to hold the ship's pet goat." 

nigh broken. Bill blubbered in his coat of 
mail, and hugged and kissed the little fellow. 

" And where have you been all this time ? '* 
asked Bostock. 

" Oh, I 'm the bo's'n's mate of the Calli- 
ope," said Bill ; " and what with the knocking 
about we got, I 've been kept hard at it on the 
rigging." 

" You have been badly missed," said Bostock. 

" Bless his old heart ! " said the sailor, " I 
think a lot of my little Am." 




THE LITTLE FISHES: "TEACHER, TEACHER, ALL THE REST OF THE SCHOOL HAVE BEEN CAUGHT IN A BIG NET!" 




By Leonard Bruen 



One evening a little red Squirrel had just 
rolled himself up in his warm nest in the hollow 
of an old tree, when he heard a Bat, who al- 
ways slept with his head hanging down and his 
feet up, say to a Stork, who was asleep stand- 
ing on one long leg : " Do you know, you look 
very queer sleeping there on one leg ? " 

" Do I, indeed ? " said the Stork, waking up. 
" Well, I wish you could see how odd you look 
when asleep, with your head where your feet 
should be ! How do you sleep that way ? " 

" Ha, ha ! Ho, ho . " laughed an old Opos- 
sum, who was hanging from a limb by his tail. 
" I assure you, I am extremely comfortable in 
this restful position. Why," he continued, 



" If I had a tail where my nose should be, 
As the Elephant has, as well as his mother, 
I 'd hang like a hammock from tree to tree, 
And swing from one tail to the other. 

And really, you have no idea how very sooth- 
ing it is to hang by one's tail." 

" Oh, my ! " said a little fat Pig, " it 's hard 
enough to have a long straight tail like yours, 
without being hung up by it." Then, curling his 
little tail tighter, he waddled off, with a scorn- 
ful sniff and a grunt ; and the Squirrel buried 
his nose in his bed, that they might not hear 
him laugh ; but he made such queer noises 
trying to smother his laughter that the others, 
not knowing he was there, became alarmed. 



279 



280 



A SLEEPY LITTLE STORY. 



The Stork, quickly putting his other leg 
down, cried : " What 's that ? " The Opossum 
unwound his tail, the Bat stood up on his feet, 
and both said : " Who 's that ? What 's that ? " 

Then a little Echo fairy came bounding 




THE OPOSSUM, OWL, BAT, STORK, AND PIG TALK OVER THE QUESTION. 



stupid little Pig really wanting his tail curled 

up in that absurd fashion, when a nice straight 

tail like mine is so beautiful." 

The Squirrel dived deep in his bed, shaking 

with laughter, for he could not help it. 

Then the Owl stood 
before them, and said 
to the Opossum : " Of 
course we are quite 
dazzled by the beauty 
of your lovely straight 
tail, but, pray, re- 
member, 

" The Pig wears his tail 

in a twist instead, 
And the Bat is content to 

sleep on his head ; 
So you see it 's a matter 

of fashion and taste. 
You should never judge 

others in haste, in haste, 
You should never judge 

others in haste. 



Still," said he, blinking 
very hard, " why any 
one in his right mind 
should want to sleep 
all night, when it 's so 
much pleasanter to 
sleep in the daytime, / 
can't imagine." 

The little Squirrel 
smiled, and, nestling 
down in his warm, 
comfortable bed, he 
crooned this contented 
little song : 

'The Opossum may hang 

by his tail ; 
The Bat may sleep on his 

head ; 
The Stork may sleep on 

one leg on a rail ; 



But / sleep all night in a bed, a bed, 
I sleep all night in a bed ! " 



along in cap and bells, repeating after them : 
"Who 's that? What 's that?" as he madly 

scurried away, until the woods echoed. And soon they were all fast asleep, except the 

A wise old Owl, hearing him, went to see Owl,who flew noiselessly away,and the little Echo 

what was the matter. As he approached, he fairy, who went off repeating in a sleepy voice: 

heard them talking, and listened. « 7 sleep all nighl in a bed> a bed, 

"The idea," growled the Opossum, "of that I sleep all night in a bed!" 





THE DON'S BOOTS. 



By Tudor Jenks. 



They were beautiful boots, of Spanish leather; 
And there stood Pedro, wondering whether 
He 'd dare to try them on his feet. 
" I know they 'd fit me like a glove ; 
And the owner snoring up above, 
Would never know ! " A gentle shove, 
A pull, a stamp. The fit was neat. 
" Aha ! " cried Pedro, with a grin, 
" Though I am Boots at this country inn, 
At least I have an instep high 
As any grandee's, far or nigh ! 

While as for stepping off in style — 
Just watch me now ! " Then, with a smile, 
He took one stride — and into the night 
Poor Pedro vanished from their sight 

Like a fast express that with a roar 
Whizzes by and is seen no more ! 

The fat old cook and the scullery maid 
For an instant stood, too much afraid 
To move a muscle or raise a cry. 
Pedro was gone, and they did n't know 

why. 
So they stared for half a minute; 
Then shrieked the cook : " There 's 
magic in it ! " 



Vol. XXVI.— 36. 



282 



THE DON S BOOTS. 



[Feb. 



" Murder ! Thieves ! " So the scullion tried 
To lend her aid ; then " Fire ! " she cried. 
Away both sped up the rickety stair, 
With beating hearts and disheveled hair, 



Persia — Turkey — realms Chinese ; 
Japan — Pacific — American States ; 
' All things come to him who waits.' 
Well, a thousand steps will bring him round. 




"THEY ROUSED THE DON, AND EXPLAINED THE CASE." 



To rouse the landlord. He ran straightway 
To the room where, sleeping soundly, lay 
Don Magicando, who that morn 
Those fatal boots had proudly worn. 

They roused the Don, and explained the case. 

A singular smile o'erspread his face 

As he asked : " So the lad tried on my 
boots ? 

I hope he 's one whom traveling suits ! 

Which way did he go ? It will be best 

If he happened to turn to east or west." 
'• He started east," the cook replied, 
'• And straightway vanished from my side ! " 
" I see," said the Don ; " it 's very plain. 

Let me see ; we are now in Spain. 

Mediterranean — Italy — Greece ; 



In twenty minutes he '11 be found 
Somewhere near the westward door, 
Opposite where he was before ! " 
This queer-sounding rigamarole 
Scared mine host to his inmost soul ; 
He thought the Don was out of his head 
Till, seeing his face, the other said : 
" He 's wearing my Seven-League Boots, you 

know ; 
Around the world must Pedro go ! 
I 'm glad he chose the eastward track, 
For now the boots may bring him back. 
Northward and southward much would 

hinder — 
They 'd be frozen, or burned to a cinder ! 
Luckily for me, this time 
Their journey lies in the temperate clime. 



THE DON S BOOTS. 



283 



Kindly withdraw; I '11 dress and come "You 'd find it queer," he began, "to be 



down, 
So I may stop your meddlesome clown. 
He may go by, and never stop, 
Unless I 'm there to make him drop ! " 

So Don Magicando took his stand 
At the westward door, with wand in hand. 
Suddenly came a 

whizzing sound ; 
With a single wave 

he brought to 

the ground 



whirled 
In Seven-League Boots around the world. 
I started in haste, as the cook can tell, 
And, bounding over the landscape, fell 
Plump in the Mediterranean Sea, 
Where 't would have been all up with me. 
Except that I had no time to be drowned 
Before I had stepped again on the 
ground. 



" In a minute or two I struck on the 
dome 
Of St. Peter's Church, somewhere in 
Rome; 




The breathless Pedro, who fell with a thud 
Slid a few yards, then stopped in the mud. 

After his record-breaking flight 
Pedro was but a sorry sight; 
He was splashed, bedraggled, tired, and torn, 
Speechless, travel-stained, and worn. 
And not till the Don had gone away 
Had Pedro a single word to say ; 
But after a while the story came out, 
To the wondering household ranged about. 



"THE BREATHLESS PEDRO FELL WITH A THUD." 

From there I passed to a neighboring hill, 
Where I stepped on a cart, and caused a 

spill ; 
But the damage I could n't pause to in- 
quire, 
Since I balanced one foot on a village spire 
Till another step secured for me 
A souse in the Adriatic Sea, 



284 



THE DON S BOOTS. 



[Feb. 



Whence I was brought to a strip of sand 
That borders upon some Turkish land. 
Then I lit on a merchant, but could n't 

stay 
To ask him what there was to pay 
Ere a few more paces — nine or ten — 
In the Black Sea gave me a ducking again. 



But I must have crossed the Pacific Ocean 
To American soil, where desert and plain 
Dried me thoroughly out again. 

" I quite enjoyed my American trip, 
For I crossed the rivers without a dip. 
And when I came to the eastern shore 




"'l STEPPED ON A CART, AND CAUSED A SPILL.'" 



" Next I climbed the Caucasus height, 
And viewed the Caspian Sea with fright, 
But could n't halt, so in I went, 
And the boots were soaked to their heart's 

content. 
I was drying again while from Turkestan 
I crossed over China to far Japan ; 
And then I was thoroughly drenched once 

more ; 
It was splash, dip, souse ! till I came to 

shore, 
And lit on a prince, or a mandarin, 
Who at dinner sat, just about to begin. 
How I survived I have n't a notion ; 



I began to think of Spain once more. 
But I fear, my friends, I should try in 

vain 
To tell what it was to cross the main 
In a series of jumps, when each one meant 
A dive in the salty element ! 
How glad I was you may understand 
To come again to my native land. 

■ But the sight I saw which was most sur- 
prising 
Was to see the sun again arising ! 
When I left, the sun had set; 
When half-way round, the sun I met 



i8 99 .] 



THE DON S BOOTS. 



285 



Shooting upward 
from the sea, 

Till it passed just 
over me. 

'T was morning — 
noon ; ere I 
could wink 

Down the west I 
saw it sink; 




Then 't was night. My 
flight was o'er; 

Gladly I was home once 
more ! 

Let travel be for those 
it suits — 

I have no use for Seven- 
League Boots ! " 

" But, Pedro," asked the 

fat old cook, 
" Why did n't you stop to 
take a look 
At some of the wonderful 

sights you found ? 
Why did you rush so 
swiftly round ? " 

" Well," said Pedro, " it 
would n't do. 
I 'd only stepped out for 
a minute or two, 
And I was afraid you 'd worry, 
you see, 
Or wonder what had become of me. 
Besides, those boots would have it so — 
For Seven-League Boots are built to 

I 'm not the sort that cares to roam ; 
I 'm always homesick far from home. 
And so, when buying, I shall choose 
A pair of nice, old, easy shoes ! " 








is tress V^inderella 

by yV\ a r^aret E .Wilkinson 



The snow lay sparkling on the Rockbridge 
valley road, as young Mistress Dorothy Cabell 
came riding briskly along, with the red glow of 
the late afternoon sun full in her face. She 
was mounted on a pretty bay pony, which 
pranced and curveted gaily in the nipping air, 
while a few paces behind rode her little black 
maid "Jinny," with short legs dangling over 
the sleek sides of a ponderous bald-faced nag, 
upon whose shoulders was securely strapped a 
big, bumpy-looking bundle. 

Mistress Dolly found it hard to adjust her 
pace to "Tobias's" dignified jog, for her spirits 
were dancing as merrily as her pony's feet. 
Finally she gave him the rein, and sped down 
the road at a swinging canter till she was al- 
most out of sight of her young handmaid; then 
she wheeled and came dashing back, her cheeks 
and eyes glowing, and her brown curls a-flying 
under the big feathered hat. Jinny still 
sat like a small ebony statue, her eyes fixed 
solemnly upon her mistress, and her arms 
rigidly extended, grasping the reins over the 
huge parcel before her. 

Mistress Dolly stopped short in the middle 
of the road, and her pony fell to pawing the 
snow impatiently while she waited for her little 
maid to come up. 

"Jinny," she called, "come faster, and ride 
beside me. 'T is a ball we are going to, not 
a funeral. Besides, we have yet four miles to 
Greenway, and the sun is almost set." 



" Yais, missus," replied Jinny, obediently, 
thumping her feet against Tobias's round sides. 
" Go 'long, T'bias. Dis yer hoss so tarnal 
stumbly, I 's plum skeered to trot 'im. Back 
yond', on de bridge, he jes' natchelly stumble' 
over his own big hoofs, an' little 'mo' 'n' he 'd 
spill' de whole load in de branch. Yo' like 
t' ain't had no pa'ty dress nor no nigger, KT 
missus"; and she rolled her eyes mournfully 
at Mistress Dolly. 

" I trust nothing has fallen out," said Mis- 
tress Dolly, anxiously, leaning over and exam- 
ining the knobby bundle. " If I should lose 
my gold comb, or the ostrich fan Aunt Car- 
rington gave me, I should be in a pretty 
plight. Did you put in my smelling-bottle, 
Jinny? And the powder-puff? Seeing that 
my Lord of Fairfax is a bachelor, I doubt if 
such women's nonsense is to be found at 
Greenway. I wonder — " But here Mistress 
Dolly's thoughts outran her tongue, and her 
voice trailed off into silence as she gave her- 
self over to contemplating the glory that the 
evening was to bring forth. 

For she was going to her first grown-up ball ; 
and not an ordinary ball, by any means, but 
the most splendid affair of the year — the great 
Colonial Ball, which the Earl of Fairfax gave 
every New Year's Eve at his Virginia home, 
Greenway Court. The old earl chose to live 
to himself for three hundred and sixty-four 
days of the year ; but on each New Year's Eve 



MISTRESS CINDERELLA. 



287 



he threw open his house to guests who came 
from every corner of the world (or so it 
seemed to Mistress Dorothy, who had so far 
gazed at the world only from one small corner), 
and notables from far and near came to do his 
lordship honor. There would be handsome 
officers from his Majesty's army, who did the 
minuet most divinely, and distinguished gentle- 
men from Richmond and New York, and even 
Governor Dinwiddie and his secretaries from 
Williamsburg. Moreover, all the most beau- 
tiful of the famous Virginia beauties would be 
there, panoplied each with her most engaging 
smile and dimple. And when the fiddles be- 
gan to scrape in the great drawing-room, the 
hum of talk would die breathlessly away, as 
the old earl, dressed in evening clothes of the 
plainest color and cut, but of exquisite texture, 
stepped forth and chose the most charming and 
graceful damsel in the room to walk with him 
through the minuet. 

To be Queen of the Colonial Ball was the 
summit of social eminence to which any maiden 
of the Virginia valley dared to aspire. The 
one so honored was set with the seal of social 
ascendancy as surely as any queen on a throne — 
for one year. Then upon the next New Year's 
Eve she yielded her scepter to another, who 
held supreme sway as she had done. Years 
ago, in the days when Mistress Dolly's Aunt 
Carrington was the beautiful Patty Boiling, she 
had been chosen Queen of the Colonial Ball. 
Mistress Dolly was to be in her aunt's care to- 
night, and she reflected how people had often 
said she was the very shadow of what her Aunt 
Carrington had been in her youthful days. 

Then she thought of her own modest fame 
for grace in the minuet — how she was the pride 
of the London dancing-master who put the 
children of the wealthy Virginia valley gentle- 
folk through their steps. And she thought 
with maidenly satisfaction of the wondrous 
rose-colored brocade gown in the parcel on 
Tobias's back, of the brilliant color it lent her 
eyes and cheeks, and of the graceful folds of 
the shining satin as it fell in rich curves from 
her shoulders far out along the floor. She 
glanced down at her little patrician feet, shod 
at present in stubby, plantation-made brogans, 
and she thought of the clocked stockings and 




'THERE would be handsome officers and distinguished 

GENTLEMEN." 



high-heeled French slippers, which displayed so 
enchantingly the curve of her slim ankle. And 
last, she remembered Jinny's clasped hands and 
voluble admiration as Dolly stood arrayed in all 
her ball finery, and with the coquettish crescent- 
shaped patch placed near the dimple in her 
chin — and suddenly her heart almost stopped 
beating at the amazing audacity of the hope 
that arose in her. 

" Fie upon you, Dolly Cabell ! " she mur- 
mured, in such vehement scorn that her pony, 
whose gait had subsided to a peaceful jog, 
pricked up his ears and began to prance. 
" Fie upon you, for a vain, foolish girl ! What 
are you, that you should dance the minuet with 
my Lord of Fairfax ? ' Vanity of vanities ; all 
is vanity,' " she repeated, and then laughed. 



MISTRESS CINDERELLA. 



[Feb. 



She felt vaguely that such a sentiment might 
be unflattering to her noble host. Mistress 
Dolly was only sixteen, and at sixteen one 
is not usually distinguished for worldly wis- 
dom; still, she fully realized the necessity of 
putting the ambitious thought behind her. 

By the time she had arrived at 
this virtuous conclusion the sun 
was set, and in the semi-darkness 
Mistress Dorothy and her maid 
reached the home of her Aunt 
Carrington, which lay next to 
Greenvvay. On riding up to the 
house, they found that 
Madam Carrington, 
who was to assist his 
lordship in receiving 
his guests, had already 
gone to Green\vay,but 
had left orders that 
Uncle Caleb, the black 
butler, should ride 
over directly with Mis- 
tress Dolly. So when 
she finally entered the 
great arched gateway 
with her two attend- 
ants it was quite dark, 
but in a blaze of light 
which shone down the 
avenue from the great house she could see gay 
forms that were moving briskly about inside. 

A servant in gorgeous livery helped her to 
dismount at the door, and she held her breath 
as Uncle Caleb carefully unstrapped the bundle 
from Tobias's back and deposited it tenderly in 
Jinny's outstretched arms. A bewildering crowd 
of equipages and footmen blocked the way to 
the steps ; but another servant piloted her 
through, and, with Jinny at her heels, she passed 
along a crimson carpet into the house, and 
up a paneled oaken staircase to the dressing- 
rooms above. 

As Mistress Dorothy paused a moment on 
the stairway-landing at Greenway Court, she 
caught her first Cinderella glimpse of a ball ; 
and the real Cinderella herself surely never 
saw a more dazzling spectacle. In those days 
balls began early, though it is a regrettable fact 
that they also continued late, and the guests 



were nearly all assembled : officers in magnificent 
scarlet uniforms resplendent with gold decora- 
tions, ladies arrayed in rustling, gleaming stuffs 
of every kind and color, and gentlemen, be- 
wigged and bepowdered, in garments whose 
rainbow tints proclaimed that they were not 
to be outdone in brilliancy by 
the ladies' attire. 

In the midst of this panorama 
of color Mistress Dolly 
caught sight of a figure 
in a plain dark suit, with 
irreproachable snowy 
neckcloth and 
black vel- 
vet small- 
clothes. 
The only conspic- 
uous thing about his 
attire was a beautiful 
sword, with a gem- 
studded hilt, which 
hung at his side. The 
man's face was not 
handsome, but it be- 
spoke a dignity and 
nobility which came 
not alone from his 
blazoned shield and 
quarterings. As he 
welcomed his guests with a fine courtesy, Mis- 
tress Dolly knew that it was Lord Fairfax, who 
in her father's lifetime had been one of his 
well-known and loved friends. 

Jinny was waiting for her at the head of 
the stairs, and people were crowding down, so 
she passed on into one of the great bed- 
chambers. Most of the guests were below, so 
the dressing-rooms were almost empty. Ten- 
derly the wonderful parcel was laid upon the 
bed, and each delicate, lavender-scented gar- 
ment shaken from its folds. The fan, the 
comb, the powder-puff, all had come safely. 
Mistress Dorothy's brown curls were gathered 
into a knot on the crown of her pretty head, 
and powdered very lightly. Then, as Jinny 
knelt at her feet and drew off the clumsy 
brogans and coarse woolen stockings, Mistress 
Dorothy gave a contented sigh. She was just 
a trifle vain of her slim little feet, and it cer- 




MOMENT HE STOOD BOWING BEFORE MISTRESS 
DOROTHY CABELL." (SEE PAGE 291.) 



MISTRESS CINDERELLA. 



289 



tainly was a satisfaction to realize that they eyes straining from above. The upper floor 
were becomingly shod. As Jinny rose to get was deserted ; even the black waiting-maids 

had gone to peep 
at the ball from 
the servants' quar- 
ters. Aunt Car- 
rington was no- 
where to be seen. 
She was doubt- 
less moving busily 
among his lord- 
ship's guests, all 
unconscious of 
her little niece's 
miserable plight. 
At this thought 
two great tears rolled down Mistress Dolly's 
cheeks and splashed dismally on the floor be- 
low. " What shall I do ? " she whispered, with 







WHEN SHE FINALLY ENTERED THE GREAT ARCHED GATEWAY IT WAS QUITE DARK. 



the silk stockings and pink slippers, her mistress 
lay back luxuriously in a big arm-chair, swing- 
ing her bare feet and softly humming a tune. 
Presently she was startled by an exclamation 
from Jinny, who was rummaging recklessly 
among the garments on the bed. 

" What is it, Jinny ? " she cried sharply. 
"Be careful; you are rumpling my gown." 
But Jinny only began to whimper, and tossed 
among the delicate clothes still more wildly. 

Mistress Dolly sprang from her chair, and 
pattering over to her little maid, she seized 
her by the arm. " Jinny, oh, Jinny," she 
cried, her voice echoing in the empty room, 
"something is n't — is n't lost, is it?" 

For answer, Jinny turned with a tragic air, 
and held before her gaze a pair of rose-colored 
stockings and — one slipper! " De oder 'n 
ain't here, liT missus," she murmured ; "it — 
ain't — here !" 

Mistress Dolly snatched the precious dress 
from the bed and shook it roughly, but no slip- 
per fell from its shining folds. Then she let 
it fall again in a heap, and quickly taking a 
taper from one of the sconces on the mantel- 
shelf, she thrust it into her little maid's hands. 
" Go quickly, Jinny, and search for it," she 
gasped, giving her a little push. 

As she opened the door into the silent hall, 
a hum of talk and laughter came to her from 
below the stairs and seemed to mock her. 
Jinny ran sobbing to the staircase, and leaned 
far over the oaken rail; but the flickering 
candle showed no lost slipper to the eager 
Vol. XXVI. —37. 




"JINNY LEANED FAR OVER THE OAKEN RAIL." 



290 



MISTRESS CINDERELLA. 



[Feb. 



her face against the balustrade. " I can 
not go downstairs — I cannot dance 
the minuet in these brogans. I 
— oh, I would I had never 
come ! " And she ran back 
into the room and threw 
herself miserably across 
the foot of the bed. 

Just then Jinny came 
back, whimpering piti- 
fully. " LiT missus," 
she sobbed, " I neb- 
ber done it a-pur- 
pose. I nebber 
meant to lose it. 
Y' ain't gwine to 
whup me, is you, 
liT missus? Itmus' 
'a' done spill' out 
when T'bias stum- 
ble' on de Boilin' 
Spring bridge, dere." 

In the presence of 
Jinny's weak fright 
Mistress Dolly felt her 
self-respect return. She 
was too proud to appear 
anything but dignified be- 
fore her young servant, and 
she had been taught that the 
blacks looked to their white 
masters for example; so she sat 
up and dried her eyes furtively on 
an edge of the bed-tester curtain. 

" Certainly you shall not be 
whipped, Jinny," she said, with de- 
cision. " You are not to blame. 
Now come quickly and dress me. 
down to Aunt Carrington. Of course I 
shall not dance," — trying hard to swallow 
the lump in her throat, — " but I am going 
now, for it is almost time for the ball to 
commence." 

Neither spoke while Jinny arrayed her in her 
ball finery. The little maid's heart was as 
heavy as her mistress's as she deftly put on 
the beautiful dress, adjusted the gold comb, 
and put the fan, smelling-bottle, and coquettish 
lace handkerchief into her hand. But even in 
her grief Mistress Dorothy could not fail to 




I am going 



see that she looked "proper well," and 
she was glad that the tears had not 
made her nose red. She only 
caught her breath sharply 
when she lifted her train to 
descend the stairs, and 
V\ saw one foot cased in the 
dainty satin slipper, and 
the other in the rough, 
home-made brogan. 
She came straight to 
the drawing-room, 
and stood for a sec- 
ond till Madam Car- 
rington spied her, 
and came toward 
her with two or 
three red-coated 
officers. There was 
a brief pause of ad- 
miration as she en- 
tered the room on 
the arm of a dashing 
cavalier, literally with 
her best foot forward. 
But though poor Mis- 
tress Dolly thought all 
the world must hear the 
hideous clatter of her rough 
boot on the polished floor, 
and the inquisitive glances 
made her cheeks burn, she only 
carried her head the higher. 

The old earl was standing chat- 
ting with some friends when he 
spied Mistress Dolly ; but he came 
forward to meet her, and bowed 
low over her hand as Madam Carrington pre- 
sented her. " A worthy niece of a beautiful 
aunt," he said gallantly, "and one who, I doubt 
not, will follow in her footsteps. I can pay you 
no greater compliment, Mistress Cabell, than to 
predict that you shall." Then he spoke a few 
graceful words about Mistress Dorothy's father, 
whereat her eyes glistened with pride, and for a 
moment she forgot her clattering shoe, as she 
listened to this noble old gentleman's praise of 
one so dear to her. 

As the young girl moved off with her aunt, 
the childless old man gazed after her for a 



ONE FOOT IN THE DAINTY 

SATIN SLIPPER, AND THE 

OTHER IN THE ROUGH 

BROGAN." 



9-1 



MISTRESS CINDERELLA. 



291 



moment with a look in which admiration, rem- 
iniscence, and a little sadness were mingled; 
and as a bevy of gaily dressed dandies closed 
in about her, he turned away with a slight sigh, 
and fell to talking with a lady at his side. 

Presently the scrape and shriek of tuning 
fiddles pierced through the great room, and 
the noise of talking subsided to an expect- 
ant murmur. The belles patted their curls 
and unfurled their fans with fluttering hearts, 
and waited. Every eye was fixed upon the 
old earl as he gave the sign to the black 
musicians; then, as the opening strains of the 
stately Boccherini minuet broke from the fid- 
dles, his eye traveled quickly round the room, 
and he crossed to where Madam Carrington 
sat, and in a moment stood bowing before 
Mistress Dorothy Cabell ! 

Poor Mistress Dolly never knew quite how 
it happened. She felt only half-conscious 
as she raised her eyes to the sea of faces, and 
saw the Earl of Fairfax standing before her, 
with his hand on his sword-hilt, soliciting with 
his best bow the honor of her hand for the 
minuet. Her heart beat in her throat, and she 
half rose to her feet ; then she remembered, and 
the smile died away on her lips. She tried to 
speak, but could not articulate the words. " I 
crave your pardon, my lord," she murmured 
breathlessly; "I — I must beg your lordship 
to excuse me." 

In a trice the eye-glasses were up, and every 
dowager and dandy was staring at poor Mistress 
Dolly as if they would pierce her through. 
She could feel her Aunt Carrington's astonished 
gaze, and the amazed glances of the slighted 
beauties ; and, worst of all, the earl still stood 
before her, looking as if he had not compre- 
hended her words. Then, as Mistress Dolly 
did not speak nor look up, the old man's 
face took on an expression first surprised and 
then deeply hurt, and, with a stiff bow, he 
turned on his heel and walked away. In a few 
minutes he was walking composedly through 
the minuet with Mrs. Anne Churchill, a buxom 
widow of forty, and the company was struggling 
to recover its composure. 

She had refused to be Queen of the Colonial 
Ball ! What a tale for the gossip-lovers ! 
Would any one have believed such insolence 



possible if they had not seen it ? Mistress 
Dolly felt the whispered criticisms rather 
than heard them, and her cheeks and brow 
were flaming. She stole a glance at her Aunt 
Carrington; but that lady was gazing straight 
before her with her head in the air, too proud 
to question her niece as to her remarkable con- 
duct before a roomful of strangers. Poor Mis- 
tress Dolly! She stood the battery of curious 
eyes throughout the whole of that long, long 
dance ; then, as the gentlemen were bowing 
and leading their fair partners to their seats she 
slipped quietly from her place beside Madam 
Carrington, and out of the room. 

She had no thought of where she was going. 
Anywhere away from the glaring lights and 
screaming fiddles and staring eyes ! If she were 
only at home, snug in her white-canopied bed, 
with her mother to comfort her while she sobbed 
out the pitiful little tale ! It would be a com- 
fort if she could only find Jinny, and they two 
could steal quietly over to Aunt Carrington's, 
out of the noise and glare. Her head ached, 
and the great clattering boot hurt her foot. She 
had ridden seven miles that afternoon, and she 
was so weary ! 

Mistress Dolly's rovings and reflections were 
cut short at the same moment. She had wan- 
dered into another part of the house, where 
the noise of the ball came to her only as a 
faint murmur. Suddenly she paused on the 
threshold of a little room lined with book- 
shelves, and lighted only by the dancing gleams 
of a log fire on the broad hearth. A huge 
leathern chair was drawn up cozily before it, 
and on the table near by lay an array of pipes 
and tobacco. Mistress Dolly was looking at 
these curiously when her eye fell upon a little 
dark object on the floor, huddled against the 
big chair. It was Jinny, fast asleep ! 

Mistress Dolly was about to call her 
sharply, but the sorrowful droop of Jinny's 
shoulders touched her. Poor, faithful little 
maid ! All her grief was for her young mistress. 
Softly the young girl stole into the room and 
seated herself in the leathern chair. She drew 
the odious boot from her foot, and set it upon 
the floor gently, that she might not awaken her 
little servant. Then her white hand stole down 
and rested affectionately on Jinny's kinky head, 



292 



MISTRESS CINDERELLA. 



[Feb. 




"by and by mistress dolly forgot her woes, for she fell asleep." 



and by and by she too forgot her woes, for she 
fell asleep. 

It was here that his lordship found her, many 
hours later. His guests were departing, and 
Madam Carrington was in a great fright be- 
cause her ward could not be found. They had 
sent over to her home, but nobody had seen 
Mistress Dolly since she had stopped there 
on the way to the ball that evening. The 
earl's servants had ransacked his house in vain; 
and my lord himself had chanced to come to 
his little private den, and had stumbled upon 
the truant, curled up in his study-chair before 
the dying fire. 

As the old earl gazed at Mistress Dolly ap- 



parently taking her ease in his own little den 
after affronting him before his assembled guests, 
his anger rose hot within him. He cleared his 
throat, ready to demand an explanation for her 
presence in this room ; but Mistress Dolly 
did not look round. He took a step forward, 
and coughed; but she only stirred uneasily in 
her chair and sighed. Then he saw that she 
was asleep. He looked at her flushed, tear- 
stained face and crumpled gown, and was 
moved to pity ; then, as his eye traveled down, 
it fell upon a little stocking-clad foot and a 
heavy brogan lying near by — and he un- 
derstood! 

'• Mistress Cabell," he called softly ; but still 



i8 9 9-] 



MISTRESS CINDERELLA. 




■ THE EARL HAD FOUND THE SLIPPER NEAR THE BOILING SPRING BRIDGE. 



Mistress Dorothy slept. Then, stepping to 
the mantel-shelf, he picked up a heavy silver 
candlestick, and let it fall again ; but she did 
not wake. Then the old man tiptoed gently 
out of the room and went in search of Madam 
Carrington. 

The next day, while Mistress Dolly was 
still at her aunt's home, a black footman in the 
Fairfax livery came over from Greenway Court, 
bearing a parcel for Mistress Cabell, with the 
compliments of my lord. It contained a muddy, 
snow-soaked, rose-colored slipper, and a nose- 
gay of the choicest flowers from his lordship's 
greenhouses. To the latter was attached a 
billet directed to Mistress Dorothy Cabell, 
telling how the earl himself had ridden forth 
early in the morning, like the knight of old, in 
search of the slipper, and how he had found it 
near the Boiling Spring bridge. His lordship 



added gallantly that, inasmuch as he knew that 
an old man like himself could not prove ac- 
ceptable to Mistress Cinderella in the role of 
Prince Charming, he would content himself 
merely with returning the slipper and claiming 
the promise of its lovely owner as his partner 
for the next Colonial Ball. 

And, in truth, Mistress Dolly did queen it 
on the next New Year's Eve; and a more en- 
chanting belle never reigned in the Virginia 
valley. And this is the story of why she 
affronted his lordship, and how he forgave her. 
I doubt not that many who have heard the 
tale of Mistress Dolly's refusal from their 
great-grandmothers, and wondered why she 
acted so, now know the reason for the first 
time. The tale is true, for I have in my pos- 
session the identical slipper which fell from 
the bundle on Tobias's back that winter after- 
noon, and he who doubts may see it. 





AN IDEAL PORTRAIT. 



By Elsie Hill. 



A dainty maid, demure and shy, 

With sweet, wide eyes and quiet mien, 
Who gently greets each passer-by 

With smile serene, 

Then slips away fast as she can, — 
Is that Nan ? 



A little nun, with folded palms, 
And pale locks lying aureole-wise, 
Whose lips are stiller than her eyes 
If aught alarms, 

Whose robe is white as saint's may be, — 
Is that she ? 



A meek St. Agnes on her knees, 
A shining lily, fair and tall, 
A pearl, — do thoughts of her recall 
Such similes ? 

If some poor poet her picture drew, 
Would these do ? 

Just here, my door flying open, 
Suddenly sprang inside 

My heroine, rosy and breathless, 
Kissing me as she cried: 



" Mama, we 're having, while you write, 
The most exciting snow-ball fight ! 
And Harry says, and Rob and Roy, 
I play as well as any boy ! 
My scarf is gone — 't was round my neck ; 
I 've torn my dress the leastesi speck, 
And lost the ribbon off my hair. 
But, mother darling, you '11 not care, 
For ever since this day begun 
We 've had the most splendifrous fun ! " 




=94 



THE BALLAD OF BERRY 
BROWN. 



By Maurice Thompson. 



Oh, do you know a country lad by name of 

Berry Brown, 
Who rides upon a load of wood along the 

streets of town ? 
He has a hat turned up in front and crumpled 

down behind, 
His curly hair so long and fair is tumbled by 

the wind, 
And through his coat his elbows peep, and 

through his boots his toes ; 
But everywhere and anywhere he whistles as 

he goes. 

There 's something strangely taking in the 

eyes of Berry Brown — 
They seem to flash a cheery light along the 

streets of town ; 
Despite his coarse and tattered vest, his boots 

and hat forlorn, 
His trousers patched, threadbare, and sagged, 

his shirt so old and worn, 
For every glimpse he gives he takes a measure 

of surprise, 
And everybody wonders where the secret of 

it lies. 

And so his way of sitting there, so steadfast, 

calm, and strong ; 
His air, as if his whistling bore wagon and 

wood along; 
His independence and self-trust, the firm-set 

throat and chin, 
The working of his muscles when he reins his 

horses in, 
Take hold of one and fascinate, as hints and 

glimpses can, 
When all the glory of a boy is merging into 

man. 

Oh, Berry Brown looks careless, but he holds 
his secret well : 




Far hidden in the clouds are heights whereon 

his vision dwell ; 
Within him somewhere swells a vein of ancient 

hero-vim, 
And who shall hold him back one step, or set 

the pace for him ? 
Wait, you shall see if poverty can chain so 

strong a soul, 
Or if to sell his wood can be the rounding of 

his goal ! 

The old folk shake their heads and say : "Look 

out for Berry Brown 
When he shall measure forces with the best 

boys in the town ! 
The wind has beat in Berry's face, the sun has 

burned his skin, 
And winter's cruel hand has pinched where 

Berry Brown has been : 
But hearts like his are brave enough to meet 

the strokes that form 
And fortify the giant souls that take the world 

by storm ! " 



"POLARIS" AND "CASSIOPEIA," AND OTHER BEARS. 



By R. E. Peary, U. S. N. 




'A POLAR BEAR AND HER TWO CUBS WERE SEEN." (SEE NEXT PAGE.) 



The region in which the polar bear, the tiger 
of the north, — Ursus maritimiis of the natur- 
alist, — is to be found in greatest numbers to- 
day, is probably the east coast of Greenland and 
the Franz-Josef-Land neighborhood. 

A few decades ago, in the palmy days of the 
Scotch whale-fishery in Baffin Bay and Lancaster 
Sound, they were quite numerous in those local- 
ities, where the most whales were captured, at- 
tracted hither by the " krang," or carcasses of 
the whales, which, after being stripped of the 
bone and blubber, were cast adrift to become em- 
bedded in the floes or stranded upon the shore, 
furnishing delicious and unstinted subsistence to 
numbers of bears for months. But the continued 
inroads of the whalers upon them, and the 
decline of the whale-fishery with the consequent 
diminution of their food-supply, decreased their 
number, until at present I doubt if there is any 
portion of the Arctic seas or coasts in or about 
Davis Strait or Baffin Bay where they can be 
said to be really numerous. 

A few are killed every year in the Danish 
colonies just north of Cape Farewell — animals 



that have come round the cape on the East 
Greenland drift-ice. A few others are killed 
in the most northern settlements above Tas- 
siusak — stragglers from Melville Bay. Along 
the intermediate stretch of coast there are none. 

The little tribe of Smith Sound Eskimos ob- 
tain most of their supply of bearskins for bed- 
ding and trousers from the depths of Melville 
Bay, with an occasional raid northward into 
the wind-swept expanse of Kane Basin. Be- 
tween those localities only an occasional bear 
is secured. 

Throughout this entire region the bears have 
learned the lesson of contact with man, and 
they are in every locality more than anxious to 
evade the hunter. In 1886, during two months 
on the " Eagle " along the west side of Baffin 
Bay from Lancaster Sound south, I saw in all 
some twenty of these animals. In the voyages 
since then, I have seen but two or three in any 
given voyage, with the exception of 1896, dur- 
ing which I secured five, under the following 
circumstances. 

During five days in the latter part of July, 



296 



POLARIS AND "CASSIOPEIA AND OTHER BEARS. 



297 




1896, the "Hope" had been fighting her way 
northward, close to the wild, multitudinous- 
island-guarded coast of Labrador, from Belle 
Isle to Cape Chidley, from the Strait of Belle 
Isle to the Strait of Hudson, through streams 
of ice of steadily increasing density. 

The weather throughout this time was clear, 
with the exception of a few transitory showers 
and fog-banks, and gave us an exceptional op- 

portunity 
to view this 
interesting 
coast along 
its entire 
extent. 
The first 

day north of Belle Isle was one of excessive 
mirage, and we steamed through an enchanted 
sea. Eastward the ice and bergs were lifted 
and distorted until they formed a continuous 
range of crystalline castles in exquisite shades 
of blue and green. Westward the numerous 
islands were transformed into equally fantastic 
battlements of warmest reds and browns and 
grays. 

At noon of the third day we were off Cape 
Mugford, its bold front flanked by the striking 
masses of Table Mountain and the Bishop's 
Mitre, with rugged Nannuktak rising sharp 
and clear. We were approaching the bor- 
derland of the Arctic regions, and even at 
midnight the sky was bright with the twilight 
of the " great day " of the northern summer, 
which lay ahead of us. 

At noon of the fourth day the sharp profile 
of the Four Peaks, the highest land on the 
Labrador coast, was directly abreast. The next 
day, bright, clear, and calm, found us just off the 
savage snow-streaked rocks of Cape Chidley. 

This extreme northern point of Labrador 
presented a very striking contrast to the green 
fields of Sydney, which 
we had left a week 
before. From here 
the cliffs of Resolution 
Island were distinctly 
seen across the ice-filled 
breadth of Hudson 
Strait. While boring 
through the heavy ice, 
Vol. XXVI.— 38. 




in an effort to enter the strait, a polar bear and 
her two cubs were seen, and the Hope was im- 
mediately headed in their direction. It was a 
beautiful trio of unusually white animals. A 
few moments after the rifles began to crack the 
old bear was floating lifeless in the water be- 
tween two pans of ice, and the cubs swimming 
lustily away from the ship, among the pools and 
lanes of water which intersected the floes in 
every direction. 

Quickly the dory was lowered and with 
five men started in pursuit, while others of the 
party and crew scattered over the ice to head 
the cubs off if they left the water. Soon one of 
them was lassooed and turned over to the care 
of Bonesteel, who had followed the dory over the 
ice, and the chase continued after the other. Mr. 
Bonesteel immediately found all of his college 
athletics called into active play, as, with the line 
about the cub's neck in one hand and a boat- 
hook in the other, he en- 
deavored to maintain his 
balance. He was almost 
dragged into the water by 
the sturdy little fellow's ef- 
forts to swim away. The 
next moment he was doing 
his best to keep the vicious 
youngster from climbing up 
on the ice-pan with him, 
where he would have an opportunity to make 
effective use of teeth and claws. 

After an hour's chase, during which the dory 
was reinforced by a whaleboat and then by 
the Hope herself, the second cub was finally 
headed off, cornered, and lassooed. Then the 
body of the old bear and the growling and 
snapping youngsters were hoisted on board, 
the former deposited amidships to receive the 
attention of Mr. Figgins, the naturalist, and 
the latter tied to a ring-bolt aft, until a cou- 
ple of hogsheads could be prepared for their 
quarters. 

The little brutes were possessed of truly 
marvelous strength. While transferring them 
to their hogsheads, one succeeded in freeing 
himself from the ropes, trotted aft, and was on 
the point of jumping overboard when I saw him 
just in time to jerk him back on to the deck, 
where Professor Burton fell upon him bodily 




2 9 8 



POLARIS AND " CASSIOPEIA AND OTHER BEARS. 



LFeb. 




in a Greco-Roman embrace; and reinforce- 
ments rapidly arriving, the youngster was again 
securely bound and trans- 
ferred to his hogshead. It was 
quickly evident that these 
would hold the cubs but a 
short time, so a strong cage 
was constructed by the ship's 
carpenter from heavy planks. 
To this they were trans- 
' ferred, and their house was 
lashed to the rail on the port 
side of the quarter-deck. 
They were fed on meat and water, and soon 
went to sleep like innocent kittens, with their 
heads resting upon their paws. During their 
first nap on board ship they were named " Po- 
laris " and " Cassiopeia," after the two blazing 
constellations which, circling about the pole- 
star, light the gloom of the "great night" of 
the Arctic regions. In this cage they lived and 
throve during the rest of the voyage, occasion- 
ally taking a mouthful out of the boot of an 
incautious sailor, or snapping up a careless 
mitten, and on one occasion securing a bit of 
finger with the mitten. 

After the episode with the bears, the Hope 
resumed her work of pounding a passage 
through the ice, and finally, reaching open 
water on the north side of the strait, steamed 
half way up to Hudson Bay and devoted an 
exciting week to the search for a mysterious 
mica-mine. This portion of the strait is a 
mesh work of barren, rocky islands and numer- 
ous rocks, some half and some entirely hidden 
beneath the water. 

The rise and fall of the tide is over thirty 
feet, and this causes currents which rush and 
boil over and round the sunken rocks with a 
violence which, combined with the floating ice 
and fierce squalls, made our position one of 
continued anxiety. Twice the Hope ran on 
these sunken terrors. Very glad we were to 
get out of the savage strait again, and point 
the Hope's stem northward toward the friendly 
town of Godhavn, whence we continued on 
to Omenak, Upemavik, and then to Wilcox 
Head, where Professor Tarr and his party were 
to land. 

Shortly after this we saw our next bear. It 



was three o'clock on the morning of August 
7, when the Hope forged out past the black 
front of Wilcox Head, and laid her course for 
Cape York, some two hundred miles distant 
across the icy fastnesses of dreaded Melville 
Bay. We were now fully within the limits of 
the " great day," and there was scarcely any 
difference in the amount of light throughout 
the twenty-four hours. 

I was anxious to beat the " Falcon's " record 
crossing the bay three years before, and I had 
promised the engine-room force a dinner of 
their own selection from all my stores on board 
if we succeeded. An hour later the Duck Isl- 
ands, the southern limit of the bay, were close 
on our beam, and I gave the word to give the 
old ship full speed. 

The engine-room force had been cleaning 
fires and bottling steam ever since we left the 
Head, and now the throttle was thrown wide 
open, black smoke poured in dense torrents 
from the smoke-stack, and the Hope was 
quivering and pulsating with the propeller's 
fierce energy. All on board were interested. 
A light breeze sprang up on the port beam, and 
soon every sail was spread to it. 

About six o'clock I turned in for a bit of a 
sleep, having been up all night. At' ten o'clock 
I was wakened by the ominous " starboard," 
" steady," " port," " hard-over," from the man 
at the wheel, and knew that we had encoun- 
tered our enemy the ice. Before I was fully 
awake there came the clang of the engine-room 
signal for half-speed, and a moment later a cry 
from the deck, a wild scurry of feet, rapid shouts 
of " Port ! " " Stop her ! " then a heavy body 
tumbling down the companionway, and the cap- 
tain pounding on my cabin door, and shouting, 
" Your rifle — a bear !" In a moment I was out 
of my bunk, handed him one Winchester, then, 
hatless, coatless, bootless, in undershirt and 
trousers, was on the bridge with my other rifle. 
The head of a bear was just visible, through the 
snow and rain, as he swam between two large 
pans of ice on the starboard beam. As I 
reached the bridge, there were two shots from 
forward, one of which brought a crimson spot 
on his neck. Then I sent a bullet at him which 
scored his back, and a moment later another, 
better aimed, penetrated his head and ended 



.■] 



POLARIS AND "CASSIOPEIA AND OTHER BEARS. 



299 



his career. A boat was lowered, and, after some 
trouble in working through the ice, he was 
brought alongside and hoisted on board. 

The capture of the bear lost us at least an 
hour's time, and during the following night still 
further delay from ice destroyed my chances of 
beating the record across Melville Bay. Yet 
the passage was made in pretty good time; 
and from Cape York the Hope steamed 
northward along the well-known coast into 
Wolstenholm Sound after walrus ; then to the 
great bird-cliffs of Saunders' Island ; and so on 
northward to Whale Sound, where we killed 
many more walrus; we visited my Eskimo friends 
at the various settlements, and the site of Anni- 
versary Lodge; then leisurely southward again 
to Cape York, and from there eastward into the 
frozen heart of Melville Bay to the shore of 
Meteorite Island, near the great meteorite. 

The next polar bear was obtained under en- 
tirely different circumstances. 

During nearly a week of dismal weather, 
the Hope had been lying against the rocky 
shore of Meteorite Island, while I strained 
every nerve to embark the great star-stone, or 
Ahnighito meteorite. Then the Melville Bay 
ice had forced the Hope to get out with all 
possible haste, and seek shelter in Saviksoah 
Bay until the storm ceased. 

It was September now; the "great day" of 
the Arctic summer was fast contracting, and 
yielding to the approach of its rival, the equally 
"great night" of the Arctic winter, — and the 
nights were already dark and dangerous. At 
the first glimpse of daylight on the morning of 
September 4, the Hope got under way, and 
steamed out for Cape York to land my faithful 
Eskimo assistants.* As we steamed out through 
the western passage between Meteorite Island 
and Akpudi, we entered the fleet of countless 
bergs sweeping out of Melville Bay, dazzling 
in their glittering brilliancy, and with the danc- 
ing whitecaps flashing between the^i in every 
direction. 

Scarcely were we well within this Arctic 
white squadron, threading our way between the 
stately cruisers, when one of my quick-eyed 
Eskimos cried out, " Nannooksoah! " He had 
seen the bear for an instant far up on the 
top of a big berg, one of the tabular giants 




of Melville Bay, peering over its precipitous 
face, but it had quickly disappeared. As we 
steamed slowly round the berg, he came into 
view again, a beautiful white animal with con- 
trasting black nose, moving leisurely along the 
surface of the iceberg. The captain and I both 
chanced a shot at him at long range, and the 
captain's bullet grazed his hind leg, making him 
whirl and snap savagely 
at the wound. Then he 
galloped awkwardly 
away and disappeared 
round a pinnacle of the 
berg. Circling the berg 
again, we discovered 
him in the water swim- 
ming vigorously, and 
several shots were fired 
at him, one of which took effect, and he appa- 
rently collapsed completely; yet a few moments 
later he was swimming off again, and it was only 
after I had a boat lowered that he was secured. 

The fur of this animal was so spotlessly 
white and unstained that I gave orders not 
to have him lowered upon the deck, but kept 
him suspended from the tackle until, a few hours 
later, we reached Cape York, and, mooring the 
Hope against the face of a glacier, he was swung 
out on to the surface of the glacier, covered 
with newly fallen snow, and there skinned and 
the beautiful pelt rolled up and packed away 
still unsullied. This was our last bear. 

" Polaris " and " Cassiopeia," in their cage on 
the quarter-deck, consumed large quantities of 
meat, increased in size and viciousness of tem- 
per, and proved a source of great amusement 
for the Eskimos, who went through all the pan- 
tomime of a bear-fight with them. 

On the voyage home they added consider- 
ably to the excitement, during one wild night 
crossing Davis Strait, and on their arrival at 
Sydney were a source of intense but distant 
admiration to all the small boys of the town. 
From Sydney they were shipped to Washing- 
ton, D. C, where in a roomy cage their dis- 
positions, soured by their life on ship-board, 
caused almost incessant fights, till finally they 
were started on their travels again, and shipped 
to a far western State, where perhaps already 
some of my young readers have seen them. 



II. 




VI. 







^^TT^^p- 



THE "JUNGLE BOOK" IN THE JUNGLE. 
300 



rTVt-. 




Chapter VII. 

The boys spent the day lying hidden be- 
hind a bush on the bank. Their fire had been 
extinguished as soon as they had finished their 
breakfast. The deer was cut into quarters and 
hung up from the bough of a tree to save it 
from marauders— wolves and bears, both com- 
mon in the great forests that extended over the 
greater part of the country. Three times dur- 
ing the day canoes passed along the river. 
One was large and contained some ten red- 
skins. All were in full war-paint, and a pile of 
garments, blankets, and other articles showed 
that they had made a successful raid. 

" Villains! " Guy muttered. " No doubt they 
have been helping in the massacres. If there 
were half a dozen of us here with guns, we 
would astonish them." 

The others were small canoes, each contain- 
ing two men who were engaged in fishing. 

"Golly! dat is a big fish," the negro ex- 
claimed, as one of some twenty pounds in 
weight was pulled from the water. "We do 
bery well if we had some lines and hook, Marse 
Guy, or even de spears de redskins use when 
dey fish at night." 

" I have been out several times with them," 
Guy said, " and I have tried my hand at it ; 
but I confess I have never succeeded in spear- 
ing one. Somehow they never were where 
they seemed to be, and all I got for my pains 
was a ducking, for three or four times I over- 
balanced myself and fell into the water." 

" Me spear him, massa, if me had spear. Use' 



to do dat when me boy in my own country. 
De village was near a place where river very 
shallow and run over rocks. Used to get on 
stone in quiet place with torch ; fish come up to 
see about it, den spear him easy." 

" Well, there are no shallows and no spears, 
Shanti, so we must put that off for the present. 
At any rate, we have seen enough to make us 
cautious. No doubt there are a good many 
villages on the bank of the river ; perhaps there 
is one within half a mile of us now ; so we shall 
have to be very cautious. I have thought that 
I have heard a dog bark several times, but I 
should not like to be sure of it. There is one 
thing : as they are not at war at present with 
the tribes higher up the river, they will not be 
keeping any vigilant watch, and we may hope 
to pass them in the dark." 

While watching the river the negro had con- 
tinued his work, and by nightfall had finished 
two bows and two dozen arrows. For the strings, 
he had, before he began, cut off long, thin strips 
of deerskin, scraped off the hair, and laid them 
in the river to soak. He now took them up, 
rubbed them with some of the animal's fat, and 
then plaited them, binding with fine sinews the 
part where the notch of the arrow would wear 
the cord. 

" Dere, massa, dey not what Shanti would 
like ; dey stretch too much at first ; but dey 
are bery strong, and must make dem do till 
can find something better." 

" They will be all right when they are dry," 
Guy said. " I think that you have made a 
capital job of them — a good deal better than I 



301 



302 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Feb. 



thought you would be able to do. Now all we 
want are feathers and arrow-heads." 

" Soon get feathers, but cannot get iron 
heads ; must do same as Indians — get flat pieces 
of stone ; dey do well enough if not shoot too 
far." 

The negro, who had become accustomed to 
the English longbows, had made the weapons 
on their model rather than like those of the 
Indians. They were thicker and heavier than 
English bows, for the wood was not so tough 
as yew ; but as Guy strung and bent one, he 
felt that the effort necessary to draw it was about 
equal to that required for his own weapon, and 
that when the arrows were made he would 
be able to shoot much farther and stronger than 
any Indian could do. Before it became quite 
dark they cooked and ate some more of their 
venison, and, when night closed again, cooked 
the remainder of the meat, and paddled quietly 
down the river. 

" There is no occasion for us to exert our- 
selves, Shanti ; the stream will help us along, and 
all we have to do is to keep up a quiet, regular 
stroke. But even a splash would not be likely 
to attract attention, for I have heard several 
large fish rise in the last few minutes. What 
we have to do is to save our strength in case 
we are chased." 

" Dey no catch us," Shanti said confidently ; 
" you know we hab often raced Indian canoes, 
and always found dat we go quite as fast as 
the redskins." 

" That is so," Guy agreed ; " and of course 
our always paddling together gives us great 
advantage. But I doubt whether these Indians 
have ever paddled their best. They are not fond 
of exerting themselves unless there is a reason 
for it, and I would much rather not have a 
race for life or death with them." 

During the night they passed four Indian 
villages. It was too dark even to see the out- 
lines of the wigwams ; but the dull lights of the 
fires, which the Indians always keep alight all 
night, marked their positions, and the occa- 
sional bark of a dog, or the sound of angry 
growling over a bone, told that these animals, 
at least, were awake. They ceased paddling 
altogether as they passed the villages, floating 
with the stream until well below them. As 



soon as the faintest light appeared in the sky, 
they landed, hid the canoe, as usual, and went 
some little distance into the forest. 

" What are you going to do?" Guy asked, in 
surprise ; for the negro, instead of sitting down, 
swung his bow over his shoulder. 

" Me going to try and find gobbler. Dere 
are plenty ob dem in de woods here, just as 
dere were round old plantation ; you know me 
often shoot dem dere." 

" Yes ; I know that you were a good hand at 
it, but I have no great faith in these arrows." 

" Not for deer, massa, but good enough for 
gobbler. You know how dey sit on de boughs 
just at de edge of a clearing ; if dey are about, 
me find dem, sure." 

"I will go with you," Guy said, getting up; 
' ' my arms are a bit tired and my back stiff, 
but my legs want stretching." 

It was now growing light, and they made 
their way noiselessly through the trees, listening 
intently for any sound. Guy had often accom- 
panied the negro on such expeditions, and felt 
that, should there be turkeys near, he would be 
sure to find them. Presently Shanti stopped 
abruptly. 

" Dar, massa, do you hear dat liT noise? 
Dat old gobbler waking up, saying to de rest, 
' Time to get up and look for breakfast.' Dis 
way, sah, but be bery quiet." 

Presently they came to a spot where a num. 
ber of trees had been laid by a storm. The 
negro gave a low imitation of a turkey's call, 
and was instantly answered from a tree some 
forty yards away. Moving cautiously, so that 
the trunks of trees always intervened between 
him and the spot where he had heard the sound, 
the negro led the way, and when within a few 
yards of it stepped out with his bow drawn and 
the arrow laid on the cord. On a bough some 
twenty feet from the ground were six great 
birds. Five of them were squatted down, mere 
balls of feathers, evidently considering that 
the gobbler was premature in his summons to 
them to get up. The turkeycock himself was 
standing erect, with his head on one side, evi- 
dently listening for the intruder who had ven- 
tured to challenge him. 

" You take him, massa," the black whispered. 

The two bows twanged at the same mo- 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



303 



ment, and the cock and one of the hens fell 
off the bough and struck the ground with a dull 
thud. Guy gave a shout of triumph, and the 
other birds, startled by the sound, at once 
spread their wings and flew off. 

"Arrow not so bad, after all," the negro said, 
as he ran forward. " But we should have had 
dem all if you had not called out." 

" I have no doubt we should, Shanti ; but 
we have got as much meat now as we can eat 
for the next three or four days." 

" Dat true enough, marse," the negro agreed, 
as he picked up the fallen birds, drew out the 
arrows, and smoothed their feathers. " Bery 
fine gobbler ; him weigh twelve pounds, for 
sure. Hen nice bird, too." 

They retraced their steps, and after eating a 
slice or two of venison that had remained over 
from supper, they lay down in the bushes by 
the side of their canoe. Now that they knew 
there were many Indian villages on the river, 
they thought it as well always to hide them- 
selves during the day, lest some Indian hunter 
might light upon them. Both slept for some 
hours. When they awoke, Guy proposed that in 
future one should always keep watch and that 
they should sleep by turns. The clump of 
bushes in which they were lying stood alone, 
there being no others within fifty yards. 

" What we do about fire, sah? " 

"We must have a fire, Shanti, but we must 
be very cautious over it. I tell you what will 
be the best plan. One of us shall light a fire 
at the foot of that tree ten yards away, and 
roast that big turkey. Of course it won't be 
roasted whole ; that would take much too long ; 
you had better cut off the legs, wings, and 
breast, and roast them together. While you 
cook, I will stay here and keep watch." 

" Dat good plan, massa ; me do the cooking, 
you keep watch." 

" Very well ; but before you go out we had 
better pluck and cut up the bird, so that no time 
will be lost when your fire is once alight." 

The negro nodded. "Yes, sah, and get 
feathers for arrows ; dat bery good." 

While Guy picked the bird, Shanti trimmed 
feathers suitable for the purpose, and fastened 
them to the arrows with thread-like strips from 
the deer's sinews. This took some time, but 



Guy agreed that it was of more importance 
than breakfast, as these arrows could not be 
trusted to fly true if unfeathered, especially as 
the points were still without stones. When the 
negro had feathered two or three of them, Guy 
took them out and tried them, and found, to his 
great satisfaction, that they flew well and truly 
up to forty or fifty yards, and maintained a fairly 
correct course considerably beyond this. As 
soon as the bird was ready, Shanti collected 
dry wood for the fire, lighted it, and set about 
the work of cooking, while Guy took his place 
in the clump of bushes, with his bow and arrows 
in readiness. 

The turkey meat was soon frizzling in the 
flame. Guy watched the operation, from time 
to time looking round and scanning every tree- 
trunk. Suddenly his eyes became fixed and 
his figure rigid, for he fancied he had caught a 
momentary sight of something moving behind 
one of the trees. A minute later the head of 
an Indian peered out from behind it. Shanti's 
back was toward him, and a moment later, with 
swift but silent action, the redskin had moved 
forward to the next tree. Guy's first impulse 
was to call out to warn the negro ; but an in- 
stant's reflection told him that if he did so, the 
redskin would escape and bring the whole of 
the men of his village down upon him. He 
therefore fitted an arrow to the string, and 
drew his bow. By stealthy advances the Indian 
arrived within ten yards of Shanti. His toma- 
hawk was in his hand. He crouched for a 
spring, and in another moment would have 
leaped upon the negro, when Guy loosed his 
arrow, uttering as he did so a shout of warning. 
Shanti sprang to his feet ; but the occasion for 
action was over. 

Guy's arrow had struck the redskin full in 
the chest ; his spring was arrested, the tom- 
ahawk slipped from his hand, and he fell 
to the ground. 

" Dat a very close thing, Marse Guy," the 
negro said, his black face paling a little from 
the suddenness of the danger. "Why you no 
shout before ? If you had missed him it would 
have been bery bad for me! " 

" Ah, but I was n't going to miss him, Shanti ! 
I am not so clumsy with my bow as to miss a 
man at twenty yards, which is about the dis- 



3°4 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



LFeb. 



tance." And he then explained why he had not 
given the alarm on first seeing the Indian. 

"Quite right, sah ; if dat fellow got away we 
have bery bad time. What we do wid him, 
massa? " 

" It would be better not to let him remain 
here ; another of his tribe might come along 
and find him." 

The negro went to the river-bank, and walked 
along a short distance. " Big clump ob bushes 
growing jus' on edge of water; drop redskin 
in dere ; body can no float away. Don't you 
trouble, marse ; me carry him easy 'nough. 
Look, sah ; he one ob dose who hab been to 
settlement " ; and he pointed to a tuft of 
hair hanging from the tomahawk ; " that is 
some white man's hair." 

Any compunction Guy might have felt over 
having killed the Indian vanished in a moment, 
and he turned away while the negro lifted the 
Indian without difficulty on to his shoulder and 
walked away with him. It was a few minutes 
before he returned, carrying, to Guy's surprise, 
the buckskin hunting-shirt, leggings, and moc- 
casins of the Indian. 

" Dey may come in bery useful, Marse Guy. 
If want to scout near redskin village, me can 
put dem on and with dem feathers go along 
quite bold. Here am his hunting-pouch, wid 
t'ings that may be handy ; here am two coils of 
leather, and a packet of de paints dey use for 
dere faces ; here also him knife, dat he use for 
skinning beasts or scalping enemies. We may 
as well take his arrows, too ; dey short, and no 
good for long distance, but can use close. If 
hab to shoot a man, better use Indian arrows 
dan ours. Dey see at once our strange arrows, 
and dat set dem on de hunt for us ; if one of 
dere own arrows, dey t'ink he kill in quarrel. Oh, 
dear! you not tend to turkey, massa ; me 'fraid 
he done too much " ; and he ran to the fire, took 
off the meat, and examined it. " Only liT 
burnt — plenty good." 

They carried the meat into the bush and ate 
it there. Then they slept by turns during the rest 
of the day, and as soon as it was dark set off 
again. Toward morning they heard a deep, 
roaring sound. At first Guy thought that it 
was distant thunder ; but he was soon convinced 
that it was too continuous for that. They rested 



on their paddles, and listened. " It is a fall," 
he said, after a pause. " I have heard from the 
Indians that many of the rivers make a great 
fall when they reach the edge of the higher 
country. Let us paddle on so as to get as near 
as we can before day breaks." 

The roar of the fall grew louder and louder, 
and after another hour's rowing they saw that 
the current was increasing in speed. 

" We had better get to the bank at once," 
Guy said. " To-morrow we must find out how 
far it is to the falls, and what they are like, and 
how we can best carry our canoe round." 

They soon gained the shore. The bed of 
the stream was here rocky, and the banks from 
fifteen to twenty feet in height, smooth and 
water-worn, showing the volume of water that 
was swept down in times of flood. They car- 
ried the boat farther into the wood than usual, 
and, after making a meal upon cold turkey, 
started at once, as Guy was eager to ascertain 
the prospect before them. After walking for 
upward of a mile, they arrived at the edge of 
a large clearing with patches of cultivation here 
and there, and a score of wigwams standing on 
an eminence which they knew must be on the 
river-bank. Skirting the clearing, they came, 
after another half-hour's walking, to a spot 
where the ground fell rapidly away, and keep- 
ing along the brow, presently arrived at a point 
where the fall of a giant tree had cleared a con- 
siderable space of smaller growth and created 
an opening from which a wide view could be 
obtained. Immediately in front of them 
stretched a sheet of water, broadening as it 
went until in the far distance it widened out to 
the horizon. On right and left of this sound, 
which was, where they could first see it, about 
half a mile across, stretched a wide expanse of 
flat country, covered for the most part with 
thick foliage ; but in places there was a gleam of 
water, and Guy knew that these were the great 
swamps of which he had heard. 

Chapter VIII. 

" We are at the end of our river journey," 
Guy said, after they had gazed silently at the 
view for some minutes. " That sheet of water 
is a great sound, like Chesapeake Bay, into which 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



305 



the James runs. All that flat country on both Although in some places the slope was 

sides is a swamp, and it is there that we shall gradual enough for them to be able to descend 

have to hide for a bit. I cannot see the line with ease, at others there were almost perpen- 

of sand that separates these waters from the sea. dicular precipices, where it was necessary to 

I suppose that it is too far off. However, we make long detours to find a spot where, by the 



r 




GUYS ARROW HAD STRUCK THE REDSKIN FULL IN THE CHEST. 



know it is there. I should think that we are 
five hundred feet above the water-level, and 
can see thirty or forty miles ; but there is nothing 
to go by. I don't think that we shall have any 
trouble in getting down to the lower level. Of 
course it will be steep in some places, but 
not enough to stop us, I should say, as far 
as one can judge by the line of the tree-tops. 
However, we may as well go down the hill 
and find out what it is like." 

Vol. XXVI.— 39. 



aid of the tree-trunks, they could manage to 
descend. 

" One thing is certain : we cannot get down 
here at night," Guy said. " We will go up to 
the top again and have a good long sleep, go 
back to the canoe late this afternoon, start just 
as it is getting dusk, strike the edge of this 
clearing, and keep along just inside the forest. 
It would never do to try to take the canoe 
straight through the wood at night ; we should 



306 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Feb. 



be sure to damage it. When we get to this 
side of the clearing we will lie down until 
morning begins to break, and then make the 
descent, and strike the river where it begins to 
widen out into the sound." 

The negro, as usual, assented without com- 
ment. It was a hard climb up to the crest 
again. When they reached it, they lay down in 
a clump of bushes, and slept until the sun was 
far down the crest ; then they started, and, cir- 
cling widely round the clearing, came down 
upon the spot where they had left the canoe. 

" We shall have to be very careful to-mor- 
row," Guy said. " I have no doubt there is 
another Indian village — probably a large one — 
somewhere below the rapids at the bottom of 
the fall. There would be sure to be good fish- 
ing, and no doubt they also go out into the 
sound to fish there, and have a fleet of canoes. 
We must be sure to get beyond that village 
before we strike the water." 

Half an hour later they agreed that it was 
dark enough to start, and after two hours' walk- 
ing reached the farther edge of the clearing. 
Guy had taken to the Indian moccasins ; the 
black, as usual, went barefooted ; therefore their 
trail would be so slight that it was scarcely 
likely to be noticed by any Indians who might 
next day go out from behind the village to 
hunt. 

As soon as it became light enough to find 
their way through the trees, they were afoot 
again ; but it cost them eight hours' hard work 
before they were fairly at the bottom of the 
slope, so great was the difficulty of lowering the 
canoe down the rough places without risking 
damage to its sides. The heat below was much 
greater than it had been above, and they were 
glad to take a long rest before proceeding 
farther. They had gone but a few hundred 
yards when they came upon an Indian trail. 
This was evidently much used, and they had 
no doubt that it led to the village at the foot 
of the rapids, and was the path that was used 
by the braves when going up to hunt on the 
higher ground, or on the face of the descent, 
which was just the place that bears and moun- 
tain-lions would choose for their haunts. 

" This is fortunate," Guy said. " We certainly 
could not make our way through the trees at 



night, and, with a large village near, it would 
be very risky to do so by day. But I think that 
we could keep on the track safely on the dark- 
est night. We could tell by feeling if we were 
to leave it, and if the one in front held his 
bow well out across him it would touch any 
tree that might be in the way, and cause a sud- 
den bend in the trail." 

" Dat so," Shanti agreed; "me sure dat me 
could keep on trail. Bare feet tell at once if 
leave it ; mus', of course, go slow and careful." 

" Then that is settled. We will go back fifty 
yards, and hide up in that clump of bushes till 
it gets dark, which it will do in two or three 
hours. We had better wait even longer than 
that, so as to give time for any hunter to 
return." 

While they were waiting they saw several 
Indians pass along the trail, all carrying game 
of some kind ; and it was not until three hours 
after sunset that they thought they could 
safely go forward. 

As Guy had expected, they found little 
trouble in keeping the track. The negro went 
first. He carried the prow of the canoe on one 
shoulder, so that it did not project more than 
a foot in front of him ; then with both hands 
he held out his bow at arm's length across him. 
It was well that he did so, for the trail frequently 
made sharp bends to avoid trees that grew in 
the direct line. The darkness was so intense 
that the trunks could not be seen even at arm's 
length ; but the bow at once gave warning and 
enabled them to keep on the track. They moved 
slowly, and it was nearly two hours before they 
saw by a faint light ahead of them that they 
were approaching the edge of the forest. 

They paused when they issued out into the 
open. Two hundred yards away four or five 
fires were blazing, and by their light it could 
be seen that the village was very large. In 
the openings between the wigwams many fig- 
ures could be seen moving about. The sound 
of women's voices could be plainly heard as 
they called each other or their children. Boys 
shouted, and dogs barked. 

They kept along by the edge of the trees, and 
after walking another quarter of a mile, turned 
off across the open ground, and in five minutes 
stood by the side of the river, here two or three 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



307 



hundred yards across. They were, however, 
obliged to follow the bank for another two 
miles ; for several canoes, the occupants holding 
lighted torches, were out on the water. They 
could see the Indians standing in the bows, 
darting spears deeply down, and seldom with- 
out success, as was seen by the gleam of the 
torches on the white bellies of the fish thrown 
backward into the canoes. 

" Me gib a good deal for one ob dem spears! " 
Shanti murmured. 

" Yes ; it would be very useful ; but as I am 
afraid we cannot do any barter at present, we 
must wait for some better chance of getting 
one," whispered Guy, in a joking way. 

When they thought that they were beyond 
the last of the canoes, they put their boat in the 
water, and quietly paddled along, keeping some 
twenty yards from the bank. They forgot that 
any canoe coming up from the sound would 
also probably hug the bank to avoid the force 
of the current ; so when they had gone about 
a mile, they were startled by being suddenly 
addressed by some Indians whose canoe had 
kept so close under the bank that they had not 
perceived it. What they said Guy knew not, for 
the dialect was different from that of the Indians 
in Virginia. Again some question was put, and 
Guy thought it better to remain silent than to 
speak in what would be at once detected as a 
strange dialect. The boats were now abreast ; 
the Indians had ceased paddling. There were, 
he could see, four of them. He and Shanti 
were paddling steadily, though without apparent 
haste, and, the tide helping them, they rapidly 
shot past the other canoe at a distance of some 
fifteen yards. They could hear the Indians 
talking together, and then, glancing back, 
saw them turning their canoe. Evidently the 
fact that no reply had been made, and that the 
boat was going out at the time when most of 
the others had nearly finished their fishing, 
seemed strange and mysterious to them. It 
might be, too, that the outline of the paddlers' 
figures had struck them as unfamiliar, in spite 
of the fact that Shanti was wearing the Indian 
feathers. 

" They are coming after us, Shanti. Don't 
quicken your stroke at present ; it may be a 
long chase. They have three paddles to our 



two ; but they have the dead weight of one 
sitter, and probably carry a load of fish." 

The Indians rowed hard, but soon saw that 
the strange canoe held its distance some hundred 
yards ahead. They were now convinced that 
something was wrong. The tribe was not at 
war, for some of those who had returned from 
the attack on the settlements had brought back 
the news that the white strangers had all been 
killed. Who, then, could these two men be? 
That they were whites did not occur to them, 
but from the glance that they had obtained at 
their figures they were convinced that they were 
not men of their tribe. After a few words to- 
gether, the man in the stern took the paddle 
from the man next to him, and the latter, with 
one of his companions, set to work to throw over- 
board the fish that they had captured and with 
which the canoe was half filled. Before this was 
accomplished the boys' canoe had gained an- 
other two hundred yards upon them ; but with 
an empty boat and three paddles the Indians had 
no doubt that they would speedily overhaul them. 

It was past midnight when Guy and his 
companion had embarked, and half an hour 
later when the chase began. From time to 
time Guy looked back over his shoulder. 

" They have got rid of all their fish, and are 
working their three paddles again ; we must set 
to in earnest now." 

At the end of another hour there was but 
little difference in the relative positions of the 
canoes. The Indians had gained some fifty 
yards, but, in spite of their exertions, they were 
not now lessening the interval. They had, 
however, one advantage — that of a spare hand ; 
and at the end of the hour one of the others 
handed his paddle to the passenger, and their 
boat again began to creep up. 

When daylight broke there was but a hun- 
dred yards between them. The Indians had 
made frequent changes, and, owing to the relief 
thus afforded, were still paddling strongly, while 
the continued strain was telling upon Guy and 
his companion. 

" We shall have to fight for it," the former 
said. "It is a bad business, and I would 
have done anything to avoid it ; for if we 
could have got into the swamps without being 
noticed, we should have been quite safe unless 



3 o8 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



[Feb. 



we had accidentally run against them. When 
it is once known that we are here we shall have 
the whole tribe after us." 

" No one must go back to tell about it, sah ; 
we t'rash dem easy. We know some of dere tribe 
were among those who kill' our people ; we quite 
right to kill dem back ; besides, if we no kill 
dem, dey kill us. Paddle a little easy, massa ; 
we must get breath to shoot straight. You 
bring dem down with arrow." 

"No, no, Shanti ; it is likely enough they 
have not got bows and arrows with them, and if 
I were to shoot one of them, the others might 
turn and paddle off." 

" See, massa ; black speck on de water ahead. 
Me t'ink another canoe coming dis way." 

"That settles it, then; paddle quietly till 
they are within fifty yards, and when I give 
the word swing her head round. You have 
got your pistols ready? " 

" Dey ready, sah ; saw to priming dis after- 
noon." 

The Indians were paddling their hardest, 
believing that the fugitives were completely 
exhausted, and they gave an exclamation of 
surprise as the canoe suddenly swung round 
when they were four or five lengths away, and 
they saw that one of the occupants was white 
and the other black. White men they knew, 
as they had been concerned in the killing of 
the settlers ; but it was evident from their ex- 
clamations of astonishment that they had never 
seen or heard of a black man. Before they 
could do more than drop their paddles and 
grasp their tomahawks, the boats were along- 
side of each other ; but as the Indians sprang to 
their feet, shots were discharged, and two fell 
across the canoe, upsetting it instantly. As 
the heads of the other Indians came above 
water, Shanti fired again, and one of them threw 
up his hands and sank. Guy did not fire. 
Deep as was his feeling of hatred for those 
who had so treacherously massacred his father 
and countrymen, he could not yet bring himself 
to fire upon an unarmed man in cold blood. 

" That will do," he cried ; " I cannot kill the 
wretch, and now that another canoe is coming, 
his death will not insure our safety. Bring 
your ax down on that canoe and stave it in. 
That is right. Now make for the shore." 



" Wait one moment, Marse Guy " ; and lean- 
ing over the canoe, the negro turned it over, and 
with a shout of satisfaction seized three fish- 
spears that were floating under it. 

They had during their flight passed several 
openings into the swamp, but Guy would not 
adopt Shanti's suggestion that they should head 
for one of them. 

"They know the swamp, and we don't," he 
said. " We might find the opening only ex- 
tended a short distance, and should be caught 
in a trap. No ; we will hold on as long as we 
can, and then fight." 

The canoe coming up the sound was still 
nearly a mile away ; but the sun was almost 
behind it, and they could see by the quick flash 
of the paddles that the Indians were work- 
ing their hardest. They must have seen the 
encounter between the two boats, and, still 
more, the sound of the shots must have reached 
them. 

The shore was but a quarter of a mile away 
when the canoe shot away from the scene of 
conflict toward an opening which lay nearly 
opposite to them, and in two or three minutes 
dashed into the channel. 

" Easy, now, Shanti ; there is no chance of 
their following us when they hear from the 
man we spared how we disposed of his com- 
rades, and that we have the arms that to them 
are so terrible," said Guy. " Not many of these 
men can have seen them used, but no doubt 
stories of the white man's ' fire-stick ' have gone 
from mouth to mouth through the whole coun- 
try. The canoe was a large one, and I should 
think that there must have been four rowers and 
perhaps two or three others ; but they would 
hesitate to follow men whom they must con- 
sider to have appeared among them in some 
supernatural manner. Besides, I could see 
by their faces, when they caught sight of you, 
that they had never seen one of your color 
before, and perhaps never even heard of one ; 
and, for aught I know, they may take you for 
a particular friend of mine from the infernal 
regions." 

" I hope dey hab, massa ; don't want to 
hab to fight whole tribe of redskins. Dismal- 
looking sort of place dis, sah — something like 
African river, but more big, high trees." 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



;o 9 



" Dat 's him! " Shanti cried excitedly. " Dat 's 
one of dem t'ings I was telling you about! " 

"Then stop paddling; we will charge our 
pistols again ; that fellow is big enough to 



"Yes; those are splendid pitch-pines," Guy 
agreed. " There are some of the same sort 
growing in the woods near our place, but they 
are nothing like so fine as these. We call them 
pitch-pines because the wood is full of pitch ; it break the canoe in two pieces.' 
is much harder 
and it is also 
heavier than 
other pines." 

" Pitch may 
be useful to 
us, sah ; if any- 
thing happen 
to canoe, can 
mend bery 
easy if have 
got pitch." 

" Keep a 
sharp lookout 
for floating 
timber, or for 
snakes, or any 
kind of ob- 
stacles, Shanti. 
This swamp 
is a dismal 
sort of place. 
The ground 
here is but an 
inch or two 
above the wa- 
ter, and one 
can see that at 
times of flood 
the water rises 
only two feet 
above it ; you 
see, there are 
little chan- 
nels every few 
yards apart. 
Although the 




PRESENTLY, TO GUY S ASTONISHMENT, WHAT HE THOUGHT WAS A LOG BY THE EDGE OF THE 
BANK, SLID INTO THE WATER WITH A LOUD SPLASH." 



sun is up, it is quite twilight here, the vegeta- 
tion is so rank and strong." 

For half an hour they followed the windings 
of the channel, which was sometimes ten or 
twelve yards across, sometimes only as many 
feet. Presently, to Guy's astonishment, what 
he thought was a log by the edge of the bank, 
slid into the water with a loud splash. 



" He big enough, massa, but he no do it. 
If we were to hurt him he might rush at de 
boat ; but neber do dat if let alone. Dey are 
cowardly beasts ; canoe frighten dem. As long 
as we in boat, if we leab dem alone, dey leab us 
alone." 

" Well, that is a good thing, Shanti ; we cer- 
tainly don't want to meddle with them." 



3io 



THE SOLE SURVIVORS. 



Presently the channel forked ; and as the two 
branches were about the same size, they took 
the one on the left, as it would lead them 
farther from the land and deeper into the heart 
of the swamp. Ere long the channel again 
subdivided, and they found themselves presently 
in a labyrinth of sluggish water, sometimes so 
narrow that they could touch both sides with 
their paddles, at others opening out into sheets 
of water a quarter of a mile across. 

" Dis awful place to get lost," the negro 
said, as they stopped paddling in the center of 
one of these ponds. " Him worse dan de forest 
eber so much." 

Guy agreed. " But you see there are the 
same signs, Shanti. Look at those mosses 
hanging down in great clumps. Those trees 
that are higher than the others all seem bent 
over one way, and as the sun is in the east, we 
can see that the winds from the sea are 
stronger than those from the land. We shall 
soon be at home there. Well, we need not be 
afraid of pursuit, for the swamp has the advan- 
tage over the forest that we leave no tracks 
behind us. If they do light upon us, it will be 
by pure accident. Now that we are certain on 
that point, we must find a place to land. I 
suppose the deeper we get into this swamp, 
the more likely we are to find such a place." 

" Me no see much change yet, sah," the 
negro said, looking round at the almost sub- 
merged shore. 

" That is so ; still, we may feel sure that there 
are places where the ground is higher. I sup- 
pose this part was once above the sea-level, and 
was like other land, with some undulations. 
Nobody ever saw a tract thirty or forty miles 
square as flat as the top of a table. No ; there 
must be some dry places, if we can but find 
them. Fortunately, we have got enough meat 
to last us a couple of days, and I hope we shall 
find a place before night. It is early yet, and 
we have the whole day before us, and that 



reminds me that I am hum 



ry. 



" Me been t'inking so for some time, massa." 
They finished the remains of the turkey, 
took a drink of the water, which tasted brack- 
ish, then paddled quietly on again, taking care 
to go always toward the east, so as to avoid 
passing over the same ground twice. An hour 

{To be continued.) 



later Guy exclaimed : " There is rising ground 
ahead of us. Do you see that? It rises sharply 
up from the water's edge." 

A dozen strokes and they were alongside, and 
the negro, who was in the bow, stepped ashore. 

" Sure 'nough, it is hard ground," he ex- 
claimed joyfully. 

He steadied the canoe while Guy landed. 
They pulled it a short distance up, and then, 
taking their weapons, set out to examine the 
place. The ground rose rapidly until it was 
some fifteen feet above the water-level ; it 
maintained this height for some thirty yards, 
and then sloped down again. They followed 
it to the water, and then made a detour until 
they again reached the canoe. 

" We shall do very well here, as long as we 
choose to stay," Guy said. 

"Yes, massa," the nigger replied, in a tone 
of doubt; "but what are we to eat? " 

" To begin with, there are water-fowl ; we saw 
many of them on the ponds we passed through, 
and they seemed perfectly tame. Then we have 
the fish. There must be fish here ; I don't see 
what else those big monsters feed upon." 

" Me clean forgot dey spears, Massa Guy ; 
sure 'nough, we get plenty fish." 

" We will set about it to-night, for those 
joints of venison have been kept too long 
already, and will soon be uneatable." 

" Dey do for bait," the negro said. 

" But we have no hooks, Shanti." 

" Me make hooks out of de bones out of de 
fus' big fish we catch." 

"The first thing, Shanti, is to clear all these 
low bushes away; fortunately, they don't grow 
here as they do in the swamps ; if they did, it 
would be a heavy job to clear them. How- 
ever, we will get rid of them over a good, large 
space. There may be snakes here, and at least 
we will keep them as far away from us as pos- 
sible. This is about the middle of the rise, and 
we can begin by cutting down those four young 
pitch-pines. You can split up the tops for 
torches, and chop up the rest into logs ; they 
will make a splendid fire. There is one com- 
fort : we need not be afraid of making a bright 
one. There is no chance of lurking Indians ; 
even a redskin could not find his way through 
these channels after dark." 



Lewis 
Mrtchiil 




An ugly old Goblin sat down by the sea — 

Sing Heigh-ho! all the sands are bare. 
He thought the tide feared him when it ran low, 
And laughed when the ripples sang, " Back 
we will flow ! " 
Said he, " While I am here, they won't 
dare ! " 

II. 

He built him a wall of the sea-sand so white — 
Sing Heigh-ho ! soft is the sand. 



He strewed it with kelp, and with shells 

banked it high, 
Then climbed to the top to look at the sky, 
Crying, " Now we '11 have nothing but 

land!" 

III. 

Just then a shy ripple came tiptoeing in — 

Sing Heigh-ho! — '■'■Here are we all!" 
Another ran laughing, and then the great Sea 
Came heels over head tumbling, gay as 
could be, 
And the Goblin was swept from his wall ! 




YE VALENTINE. 



By Virginia Woodward Cloud. 



O ladye lovely, ladye sweete, 
My little liege lord hath sent me 

For thy good will, over moor and hill, 
This one white day hath he lent me ; 

Yet I may not tell where he doth dwell, 
Nor what deare thought is my burden, 

Nor what I would claim in his faire name 
With this red, red rose for a guerdon ; 

Only to be thy faithful page, 

To serve as thou shalt demand me, 



Or to fly and wait at thy postern gate — 
For so doth my lord command me. 

But over the moor on yon high hill, 
Will one look forth from his tower, 

When low in the west the sun shall rest. 
Aflame like this red rose flower. 

And I pray thee, ladye, try me then, 
Watch thou, if the wind go faster, 

Or a fleet-winged bird, should I beare a word 
From thee — from thee to my master ! 




-^y^x? 



r 



'ONLY TEN MINUTES MORE! 
312 








s3y &ayio&w n^/t^ 



[This story was begun in the January number.} 

Chapter III. 
betty's letter. 

If Betty was amazed at hearing her name 
pronounced by Mrs. Tucker in such a gentle, 
almost deferential tone, she was still more as- 
tounded when that lady said pleasantly : 

" Come into my room, my child. I have 
something important to tell you." 

The two went into the landlady's private sit- 
ting-room, and Betty nearly fainted when Mrs. 
Tucker offered her a chair with all the polite- 
ness she would have shown to her best boarder. 

With her usual ready acceptance of a situa- 
tion, Betty sat down with a vague feeling that 
Mrs. Tucker must have lost her mind, but that 
it was as well to enjoy the advantages of her 
mental weakness as they offered themselves. 

" The postman brought a letter for you," 
Mrs. Tucker began, " and as I am your best 
friend and only guardian, I opened it, and I 
will now read it to you." 

"You had no right to open a letter addressed 
to me," said Betty, sharply, her sense of justice 
at once on the alert. 

" Oh, yes, my dear," said Mrs. Tucker, 
sweetly; "in the absence of a legal guardian, 
I will assume that relation toward you." 

Vol. XXVI.— 40. 3 



Betty was silenced, though not convinced; 
and, not daring to ask for the wonderful letter, 
she sat waiting to hear it read. You see, she 
had never had one before, and she would have 
dearly loved the excitement of breaking the seal 
of her own letter. 

" It is from Miss Van Court," Mrs. Tucker 
continued, and then Betty was more puzzled 
than ever. What could. Miss Van Court have 
to say, except in regard to the unfortunate 
sprinkling episode? — and why should any mes- 
sage about that make Mrs. Tucker so bland 
and dove-like ? 

The landlady went on : 

" To Betty McGuire at Mrs. Tucker's : 

" I may be mistaken, but if your name is as written 
above, I think a piece of good fortune is in store for you. 
If you were with your father in a railroad accident near 
Chicago, about ten years ago, and if you were afterward 
taken to an orphan asylum at Mapleville, and stayed there 
five or six years, then you are the Elizabeth McGuire 
that a friend of mine is looking for. My friend is a law- 
yer from New York, and is staying at my home for a 
few days ; so, if you fulfil the above conditions, I would 
like you to let me know as soon as possible. 
" Yours very truly, 

" Grace Van Court. 

" P. S. Perhaps it would be best for you to come here 
this afternoon between three and five o'clock." 

" It 's me !" screamed Betty, excitedly. " It 's 
me, and I 'm going to see her right now ! " 



3H 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



[Feb. 



" Of course you 're going, my dear, and I '11 
go with you," was Mrs. Tucker's reply. 

Betty would have preferred to call on Miss 
Van Court alone; but she feared any opposi- 
tion might break the charm and restore Mrs. 
Tucker to her normal state of temper ; so the 
wise child decided to humor her. 

" Yes, ma'am ; we '11 go together ; and please, 
ma'am, could I have me red sash again to 
wear ? " 

" That ridiculous rag ? no, indeed. Put on 
your best frock, and I '11 lend you a neat col- 
lar and brooch." 

Betty dared not disobey, and when three 
o'clock came she put on her skimpy and worn 
best frock, which Mrs. Tucker supplemented 
by a wide, stiff white collar, much too large, 
and fastened with a huge black rubber brooch. 
But while waiting for her companion to be 
ready, Betty found time to load her old straw 
hat with great bunches of the old-fashioned 
pink roses which grew all over the back fence. 

This Mrs. Tucker viewed with dismay, and 
ordered the flowers thrown away at once. But 
the excitement of the occasion stimulated Bet- 
ty's courage, and she refused to part with her 
flowers, adding: "You need n't go with me, if 
you don't like my posies." This apparently 
brought Mrs. Tucker to terms, and the two 
started off to the Van Court mansion. 

It was characteristic of Betty that she gave 
not a thought as to what Miss Van Court might 
have to tell her, not a guess as to what the 
good news might be about. She gave all her 
attention to fully enjoying the happiness of the 
present moment. To be walking leisurely along, 
wearing a rose-trimmed hat, on her way to a 
great house, and assured of her welcome there — 
all this made little Betty so superlatively happy 
that even the unpleasant presence of Mrs. 
Tucker failed to annoy her. And, too, the 
Mrs. Tucker of to-day was so different from 
the Mrs. Tucker of all past days that it was 
almost a pleasure to be with her. She chatted 
affably; and though Betty would rather have 
been alone, so that she could "pretend" more 
successfully, she met the lady's overtures half- 
way, and they seemed the best of friends. 

As they entered the Van Court gate, and 
went up the path under the great trees, and 



saw the beautiful landscape garden, Betty 
walked along like one in a dream. She had 
never seen such a place before, and it seemed 
to her like paradise. Even Mrs. Tucker's 
chatter passed unnoticed, for Betty was pre- 
tending to herself that this was her home and 
she was returning after an absence of a few 
days. One thing bothered her, though. All 
the time she was getting ready for this visit she 
had been thinking how much she would like 
to take a small gift of some sort to Miss Van 
Court — not anything of intrinsic value, but 
something that would be an offering, and would 
show how sorry she was that she had spoiled 
the parasol that day. She had looked care- 
fully over her small store of treasures, but none 
of them seemed suitable, except, perhaps, a tar- 
nished gilt buckle that Pete had given her. 
She had put it in her pocket, uncertain whether 
to present it or not; but as she walked by the 
glowing flower-beds that adorned the Van 
Court grounds, she had a brilliant idea. No- 
thing could be more acceptable to Miss Van 
Court than a bunch of flowers, and she would 
be sure to like such beauties as these were. So 
Betty broke off half a dozen stalks of pink gla- 
dioli, while Mrs. Tucker looked on aghast. 
She remonstrated ; but Betty, keyed up to a 
high pitch of daring, paid no attention. 

She felt a little shy when an important-look- 
ing servant answered their knock at the door; 
but when she entered the drawing-room, Miss 
Van Court greeted her with such a cordial 
manner that she felt at ease at once. 

" I 've brought you some flowers," she said 
simply. "They 're from your own garden; but 
I had nothing myself that you would like, and 
I wanted to give you something nice." 

Betty was so adaptable by nature, and so 
quickly responsive to the atmosphere of her 
surroundings, that she spoke quietly and with 
almost no trace of the Irish brogue that was so 
noticeable when she talked with Ellen, or the 
careless slang of her conversations with Jack. 

"Thank you, dear," said Miss Van Court, 
taking the flowers as graciously as if from a 
duchess; "I am very glad you thought of me." 

But if Betty felt at ease, it was not so with 
Mrs. Tucker. She could impress the waif with 
her sudden kindliness toward her, but Miss 



>■] 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



315 



Van Court was not likely to forget how the 
angry landlady had berated the poor little 
drudge the morning of the drenching perform- 
ance. And Mrs. Tucker trembled in her shoes 
as Miss Van Court said coldly : " I thank you 
for bringing Betty to me, but you need not 
wait; I will send her home after the interview." 

Mrs. Tucker indistinctly murmured some- 
thing about being very much attached to the 
child, and her only friend and benefactor ; but 
Miss Van Court said nothing, and was so evi- 
dently waiting for her to go that the disap- 
pointed landlady was forced to depart. 

Then Miss Grace turned to Betty and looked 
at her critically. She smiled kindly at the 
earnest little face, crowned with the bunches 
of roses, so heavy that the old straw hat could 
scarcely support them; but she seemed to dis- 
approve of the collar and brooch. 

" Where 's your red necktie ? " 
she asked Betty abruptly. 

" Mrs. Tucker took it and kept 
it, ma'am," Betty answered. 

" Were you sorry ? " 

" Oh, yes, indeed ; but," — with 
an endeavor to look on the bright 
side, — "but I could n't have 
worn it with these pink roses, 
ma'am; they would n't like each 
other." 

Miss Grace seemed much 
amused, but only said, " Come 
with me, Betty, into the library." 

"Yes 'm," said Betty, slipping 
her hand into that of her friend 
with a loving little squeeze, and 
together they went into the next 
room. 

A big man sat at a table, writing. 
He looked at Betty somewhat 
kindly and very curiously, and 
presently said : 

" Well, Miss Van Court ? " 

" This is Elizabeth McGuire," 
said Miss Grace ; " and, Betty, 
this is Mr. Brewster." 

" Yes 'm," said Betty. 

Then Mr. Brewster asked Betty 
a long string of questions, until he 
had found out everything she 



knew about her parentage and early life. At 
last he seemed satisfied, and, turning from the 
puzzled Betty, he said to Miss Van Court : 

" There can be no doubt about it ; I believe 
you may tell her." 

Miss Van Court's face beamed with delight, 
and she held out her hands, saying, " Come 
here, Betty." 

Betty almost ran across the room, and Mr. 
Brewster rose and placed a low chair for her, 
so that she could look right up into Miss Van 
Court's face. 

The lady took both Betty's little brown hands 
in her own, and said : 

" My dear, I have a wonderful piece of news 
for you — so great and splendid that I scarcely 
know how to tell it. But the principal fact is 
that you are the only heir to a large fortune." 

" Where is it ? " said Betty, looking around 




BETTY NEARLY FAINTED WHEN MRS. TUCKER OFFERED HER A CHAIR. 



3i6 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



[Feb. 




'THE LADY SAID: 'MY DEAR, I HAVE A WONDERFUL PIECE OF NEWS FOR YOU — SO GREAT AND SPLENDID 
THAT I HARDLY KNOW HOW TO TELL IT.' " 



with wondering eyes, as if she expected to see 
banknotes fluttering through the air. 

" It is safe in trust for you. But you are 
really mistress of it ; you are absolutely 
free in regard to its use, and can do exactly 
what you please with it. It does n't seem right, 
does it ? " she added, turning to Mr. Brewster. 
For Betty's face expressed such blank amaze- 
ment that it did seem as if there must be a 
mistake somewhere. 

But the child was comprehending it, though 
slowly and with an effort. 

" Tell me more about it," she said at last, 
still looking steadily at Miss Grace. 

"Well, Betty, you know that long ago your 
grandfather went to Australia to seek his fortune 
in the gold-fields there. By years of hard 
work he succeeded in acquiring great wealth, 
and he sent for his son to come out and enjoy 
it with him. But word came back that his son 
had gone to America and married there, but 
further trace of him could not be found. Soon 
after this the old man died, and ever since his 



executors have been trying to find his son, 
Martin McGuire, or his heirs. It was through 
the accident with the garden hose that day 
that I learned your name was McGuire, and we 
have proved beyond a doubt that you are the 
rightful owner of old Dennis McGuire's money." 

"Yes 'm," said Betty; and then she rose and 
walked over to where Mr. Brewster still sat by 
the writing-table. 

" Now, willow please tell me about it ? " she 
said. 

The request was from no lack of confidence 
in Miss Van Court's statements, but simply a 
desire to hear other particulars, and to have 
the added authority of the man's advices. 

So Mr. Brewster began impressively : 

" Miss McGuire, I have the honor to inform 
you that you are heiress to a large sum of 
money, probably a million of dollars, and that, 
according to the provisions of your grandfather's 
will, it is absolutely at your own. disposal. 
For the will specially states that in the event 
of Martin McGuire's death the money shall 



•] 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



3*7 



belong to his children, and shall be spent or 
used as they desire, even though a nominal 
guardian must needs be appointed to fulfil the 
letter of the law. Mr. Dennis McGuire's law- 
yer came from Australia to New York some 
time ago to hunt up the heirs. His search 
seemed fruitless, and one day he told me about 
the case, in a casual conversation. I came 
down here on a few days' visit to my friend 
Mr. Van Court, and I happened to tell him 
about it in his sister's presence. She at 
once remembered that your name was Mc- 
Guire; and though it seemed one chance out 
of a thousand, we investigated the case, and 
we feel convinced that the heir is found at last. 
I will write Mr. Morris, the Australian lawyer, 
and he will come to Greenborough at once. 
Meantime, Miss McGuire, you may be plan- 
ning your future mode of life, which will, of 
course, be very different from your past." 




' MRS. TUCKER EXCLAIMED : ' MY DEAR CHILD, WHAT ARE 
IS NOT HERE ANY MORE!'" (SEE NEXT 



" Yes, sir. Will you please pinch me, sir?" 
and Betty held out her scrawny little arm 
toward the gentleman. 

He seemed a bit astonished ; but the vaga- 
ries of heiresses are easily forgiven, and he 
nipped the arm between his thumb and fore- 
finger, saying : 

"Oh, you are awake; there is no doubt of 
that ! But you have n't realized the case yet. 
Come, now; what do you think you will do 
with all this money? " 

" First, I shall buy two things, sir — a white 
parasol and a home." 

" Indeed ! and why do you buy the parasol 
first ? " 

" Because that is to give to Miss Van 
Court, to replace the one I spoiled." 

Miss Grace was too kind-hearted to oppose 
Betty's plan, so she said : " I shall prize the 
new one highly as a gift from my little friend. 
And then next you 're 
to purchase a home, 
are you ? " 

" Yes," said Betty, 
her eyes fairly dancing 
as she awoke to the 
possibilities. " Yes ; 
I 've never had a home, 
and oh, I 've longed for 
one so! But I think 
I 'd better go back to 
Mrs. Tucker's now, 
ma'am. Ellen will be 
wanting me to pare the 
potatoes." 

Mr. Brewster looked 
inquiringly at Miss 
Grace. 

"Yes," said the lady; 
" she may as well go 
back there for to-night. 
It will be quieter and 
better for her than to 
stay here. And to-mor- 
row morning, Betty, I 
will call for you, and 
we '11 go and buy you 
some new clothes, more 
appropriate to your 

YOU DOING'; YOUR PLACE , jr. !> 

PAGE .) changed fortunes. 



3i» 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



[Feb. 



Chapter IV. 



MAKING PLANS. 



Betty went back to Warren Street, walking 
slowly and thinking hard. Occasionally she 
remembered Ellen and the potatoes, and quick- 
ened her steps ; then other thoughts swarmed 
in her brain, and her pace slackened again. 

She was not dazed by the sudden good for- 
tune that had come to her; on the contrary, 
her mind was stirred to especial activity, and 
she was making plans with eager delight. 

She would have a home, that was certain ; 
with bright flowers and cows and a strawberry- 
bed. And then she would have a new feather 
— a long, curling one — and a red sash of real 
silk ! And then, if there was any money left, 
she would buy books and learn things. 

And she had generous thoughts, too. She 
decided to buy Lame Jack a new crutch, for 
he had really outgrown the one he was using. 
And she would buy something very nice for 
Ellen, — a jewel-box, perhaps. And Pete should 
have a gift, and Mrs. Tucker, too. In her 
happiness, Betty quite forgot all Mrs. Tucker's 
harsh treatment of her, and studied seriously 
over an appropriate present for her tyrant. 
She remembered having heard her say she 
wished she could afford to have a dumb-waiter ; 
and as Betty had firmly determined to have a 
home and live in it, of course a new servant 
would be needed in Betty's place. 

Why Mrs. Tucker wanted a dumb one was a 
mystery to the child, but she shrewdly sus- 
pected it was so he could not answer back to 
his mistress's frequent tirades. And anyway, if 
that was the kind Mrs. Tucker wanted, that 
was the kind for her to have ; and doubtless 
one could be procured at a deaf-and-dumb asy- 
lum, so Betty decided to hire one. 

She had dawdled so, as she thought over all 
these things, that it was growing dusk when she 
neared the house. 

In spite of her changed circumstances, she 
felt all her accustomed fear of Mrs. Tucker's 
wrath, and tremblingly hurried around to the 
back door. 

Finding only Ellen in the kitchen, her spirits 
rose, and she announced grandly : 

" Ellen, I 've come into me fortune!" 



" Bad luck to it, thin, for comin' to ye of a 
Monday ! Here I 'm druv to death, and that 
botherin' washerwoman clutterin' about, and no 
one to help me a ha'p'orth. Come and hold 
this shtrainer, now, while I pour the soup 
through it — if yer forchin has n't turned ye 
clean daft ! " 

Good-natured Ellen was so seldom cross 
that Betty felt like a guilty wretch, and, taking 
the strainer, she showed such a repentant face 
that Ellen softened and said : 

" Don't moind me, Betty dear. I 'm that 
worrited wid me wurk, and wid the missus's 
sharp tongue, that it riles me. Whisht ! she 's 
comin'." 

Mrs. Tucker came into the kitchen, and, see- 
ing Betty, exclaimed : 

" My dear child, what are you doing ? Your 
place is not here any more. Go into my room, 
and sit down and rest yourself." 

Ellen nearly dropped the soup-kettle when 
she heard this surprising speech, and began to 
realize that something had happened indeed. 

Betty smiled slyly at the amazed cook, and 
replied : 

" No, ma'am ; I ain't tired, — no more than 
I was yesterday, — and I '11 be helpin' me 
friend Ellen." 

Neither could Mrs. Tucker induce Betty to 
eat at the table with the boarders. She pre- 
ferred to take her dinner in the kitchen with 
Ellen, as she was in the habit of doing ; and as- 
they sat eating, she told the wonderful news. 

"What 's this about yer forchin, me dear?" 
inquired Ellen. 

" Oh, Ellen, it 's just wonderful ! I can't be- 
lieve it at all, no matter how hard I try, when 
I 'm here in this house ; but I went up to Miss 
Van Court's to-day, an' she says I 'm to have 
all me grandfather's money, him havin' died 
in Australia, where the gold comes from." 

" An' is it much money, sure ? " 

" Yes, heaps ! A million dollars, the gentle- 
man said ; but Miss Grace explained that I 'd 
only get a bit of it each year." 

" She means interist, child ; but if it 's r'ally 
the interist of a million dollars, which I can't 
belave, you 're a rich lady, an' the likes o' me 
ain't fit to associate wid yez. An', by the same 
token, Mrs. Tucker ain't fit, neither!" 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



319 



" Ellen, you 're far more fit nor she is, for 
you 've always been kind to me ; and, Ellen, 
I 'm going to give you a present when I get 
my money; and when I buy my home, you 
shall come and live with me and be my cook." 

"Indade an' I will, if ye '11 have me; an' 
it '11 be a happy day fer rne whin I l'ave the 
ould lady an' her shcoldin' ! " 

" Now, I must go and tell Mrs. Tucker about 
it, as she '11 be havin' to replace my vallyble 
services with a substitute." 

When Betty opened the door, she nearly 
tumbled over Mrs. Tucker ; and it may be that 
she was not above eavesdropping when such 
upheavals were taking place in her household, 
for she rightly suspected that Betty would con- 
fide in Ellen before she told the story to her 
mistress. 

" I was just coming for you," said the lady, 
blandly, " and I suppose you were just looking 
for me. Come into my room and tell me all 
about it." 

Betty obeyed from force of habit, and seated 
herself primly on the edge of a chair. 

Although Mrs. Tucker was apparently able to 
change her demeanor toward her young drudge 
all at once, yet the child could not so easily 
alter her behavior to the tyrannical woman. 
And so she said, almost apologetically : 

" I 'm thinkin' I must be leavin', ma'am. 
They told me that I have come into my grand- 
father's fortune." 

" Oh, don't talk of leaving, Betty ! Of course 
you '11 stay with me, though in a very different 
position. You can board here, and you may 
have the best room in the house, and I '11 look 
after your clothes and things, and be your legal 
guardian. I always was fond of you, my dear," 
said the landlady. 

Mrs. Tucker was a woman who believed in 
the worm-catching powers of the early bird, 
and she had already determined that she would 
force as strongly as possible her claim to control 
Betty's affairs. 

This prospect dismayed the child, and so ac- 
customed was she to accepting Mrs. Tucker's 
word as law that she seemed to see her antici- 
pated home slipping from her grasp. 

When Betty became excited her speech grew 
more Irish, both in accent and diction, and now 



she responded to Mrs. Tucker's last remark in a 
real brogue : 

" It 's a queer way you have of showin' it, 
then, ma'am, an' if that 's fondness, I '11 not be 
caring for the likes of it from you." 

" There, there, Betty, you don't realize what 
you 're saying. You 're nervous to-night, and 
no wonder. Tell me all about it, my dear." 

" There is n't much to tell, ma'am. I don't 
understand it all myself. Only, a gentleman 
came from Australia to look for the heirs of 
Dennis McGuire, and somehow he found me. 
And so all the money will be mine ; and to- 
morrow morning Miss Van Court is coming 
to take me out to buy a parasol to make up 
for the one I spoiled for her that day." 

" Well, then, I will have a talk with Miss 
Van Court when she comes. And now do you 
go to bed, Betty, for you need rest after all this 
excitement. You may have the large blue room 
next to mine, for the room you have been oc- 
cupying is not suited to your present position." 

She went with Betty to the blue room, and 
after she had left her for the night, the little 
girl crept into the pretty white bed, and felt 
that it at least was real, even if the fortune 
never came true. 

She fell asleep in a moment, and dreamed 
that she had a hundred sashes, each of a differ- 
ent color, and a hundred long, curling feathers; 
that she was running to her new home with 
them, and Mrs. Tucker was running after her. 
And she thought she ran inside and locked the 
door. And then Mrs. Tucker seemed to set 
fire to the house, and just then, of course, 
Betty woke up, and found it was morning, and 
she was still in the blue room, and all kinds of 
beautiful things might happen before the day 
was over. 

She hopped out of bed, and enjoyed, for the 
first time in her life, the luxury of making an 
unhurried toilet. 

But her old faded frock seemed more dis- 
tasteful to her than ever, and she looked long- 
ingly at the blue ribbons that held back the 
window-curtains. At last she decided to bor- 
row them ; for if the fortune-story was true, 
she could pay Mrs. Tucker for them, and if 
not, she could give them back. 

So she converted them into a very becoming 



320 



THE STORY OF BETTY. 



I, 







"BETTY CONVERTED THE RIBBONS INTO A VERY BECOMING COLLAR AND BELT." 



collar and belt, and stepped out into the hall, 
feeling half afraid that she was still dreaming. 

But she was n't, and Mrs. Tucker at once took 
her in charge, and, leading her to the dining- 
room, gave her a breakfast such as she had 
seen, indeed, but never before eaten. 

Soon after this Miss Van Court came, and, 
as she had planned, Mrs. Tucker received her 
and had an interview with her alone. But it 
could not have been very satisfactory to the 



landlady, for it was with a decidedly crestfallen 
air that she went to summon Betty. 

When the child came in, Miss Van Court 
said only : " Good morning, Betty. Get your 
hat at once, and come with me for a drive." 

And then Betty McGuire went down the 
steps and out the gate of No. 27 Warren Street 
for the last time, and seating herself in Miss 
Van Court's carriage, she rolled away to begin 
her new life as a young heiress. 



[To be continued.) 



AN INVINCIBLE HORSE-TAMER. 



By Lida Rose McCabe. 



This is the story of an obscure country boy, 
whose love of horses " turned a leaf in civiliza- 
tion," and brought him, beyond any man of 




JOHN RAREY AND " CRUISER. 



his time, into close social intimacy with the 
crowned sovereigns of the world. 

His name was John S. Rarey. Early in the 
century, his father — a Pennsylvanian Dutch 
farmer — cleared a tract of forest land on the 
outskirts of Ohio's capital. On this virgin spot 
was built a log cabin, in which the future horse- 
tamer was born. The cabin in time became 
the beginning of the village of Groveport, 
known half a century ago to lovers of horses 
throughout the civilized world. 

While a babe in his mother's arms, it was 
young Rarey 's delight to watch the animal life 
Vol. XXVI.— 41. 



on the farm. To pet the horses and cows 
was ever to the boy a keen pleasure. When 
he could make his way alone to the farm-yard, 
it was observed that the friskiest colts were 
docile under the caressing strokes of the child's 
hand. John was the youngest of seven chil- 
dren. At this period he was the only child at 
home. The Rarey farm was isolated. Many 
miles lay between neighbors. Having no 
youthful playmates, his warm little heart made 
friends of the chickens, the cows, and the colts. 
At the age of three years it was his delight to 
ride astride the plow-horses. 

One significant incident in the childhood of 
the " invincible horse-tamer " was frequently 
related by his mother. It occurred in his 
fourth year. The family being at the dinner- table, 
one day, it was discovered that the chair of the 
youngest was vacant. A servant was sent in 
quest of the truant. The fields, the barns, the 
hay-mounds were searched in vain. A terrific 
scramble was heard, at length, in a gravel road- 
way near by. To the horror of the distracted 
household, Johnny Rarey was discovered upon 
the back of the wildest colt on the farm ! 

Expecting to see the child fall to the ground 
every momont, the father started to his rescue; 
but, to the relief of the household, colt and 
rider soon reined up in safety at the barn 
door. When reproved for his conduct, the 
infant replied that he and the colt were the 
best of friends. To convince his father of his 
mastery of the colt, he mounted and dis- 
mounted, bridled and unbridled the animal, 
who, to the astonishment of the spectators, sub- 
mitted to his young master's directions. His 
control of the colt was much talked of in 
the neighborhood. From that time the young 
horseman was in great demand to carry mes- 
sages between the scattered farm-houses. 

Before his ninth year his reputation for horse- 
manship in that part of the country was unri- 



322 



AN INVINCIBLE HORSE-TAMER. 



[Feb. 




RAREY S METHOD OF TAMING A REFRACTORY HORSE. 
THE FIRST STRAP IN PLACE. 



valed. With the awakening of his mental 
energies the boy realized that there was some- 
thing wrong in the prevalent method of break- 
ing horses. His childish soul recoiled at the 
cuffs and blows with which drivers were wont to 
subdue their animals. Throughout his school- 
days the subject of his compositions was 
" Man's Best Friend — the Noble Horse." His 
most ambitious effort was a rhyme, in which 
he sang the gospel of " kindness, patience, and 
firmness " in dealing with the brute creation. 

The turning-point in his boyhood came on 
his twelfth birthday. His father, now an ex- 
tensive dealer in horses, presented to him an 
unbroken pony, which the lad proceeded to 
train after his own ideas. Little attention was 
paid to his manceuvers with the pony until 
neighbors began to flock to the farm to see the 
animal's almost human antics. The boy had 
trained the pony until there seemed to be 
nothing beyond the quadruped's intelligence. 
But while family and neighbors applauded, the 
result was attributed to the pony's abnormal clev- 
erness rather than to the boy's skill in training. 

His success with the pony encouraged him 
to undertake the education of his neighbors' 
untrained horses. Gradually he found himself 
master of a prosperous and attractive business. 
For miles round his boyhood home, pupils 
sought instruction in his method of training. 
All this came about while he was still in his 
teens. In stature he was a medium-sized 
youth with a well-proportioned figure, wiry 
and active rather than muscular. His com- 
plexion was almost effeminately fair. His hair 



was flaxen, his eyes large and gray. In man- 
ners and speech, as boy and man, he was 
always a gentleman. When not engaged in 
conquering a fractious horse, his fair face had 
the kindly repose of a poet's. Observation in 
the animal world early convinced him that the 
horse had intellectual endowment in harmony 
with man's. He soon learned that his greatest 
successes were the result of kind treatment, 
firmness, and perseverance. Colts, however 
wild, he observed, allowed cows, sheep, and 
other domestic animals to associate with them 
unmolested. 

Young Rarey cultivated a close friendship 
with the wildest colts, and his kindly advances 
were never repulsed. Not unfrequently, they 
gave demonstration of positive delight. He 
went to Texas, where he spent months with 
the wild horses of the plains, who yielded as 
readily as had his farm-yard " incorrigibles " to 
the underlying principles of his system — "kind- 
ness, fearlessness, patience." 

To carry out this plan of subjection without 
violence, Rarey used two small straps. One he 
attached to the near fore foot of the horse 
when bent, and bound it closely up by the 
hock and fore arm. The other strap he after- 
ward fixed to the off fore foot, passing it under 
the surcingle, and holding it in the hand. The 
first strap hampered the horse, and prevented 
him from running or kicking ; the second, by 
the application of slight force, drew up the other 
fore leg. After a struggle the horse was then 
brought down on his knees and gently thrown 
on his side, until gradually his vast strength 
yielded to what seemed, to his intelligence. 




METHOD OF APPLYING THE SECOND STRAP. 



i8 99 -] 



AN INVINCIBLE HORSE-TAMER. 



3 2 3 




'after a struggle the horse was brought down. 



overpowering force. By this simple plan Rarey 
taught the horse that though man is his master, 
yet he is a friend. 

The value of his method lies largely in the 
fact that it may be taught to and successfully 
practised by a plowboy of thirteen or four- 
teen years of age, on all save extremely vicious 
or powerful horses. Young Rarey now felt 
that he had a mission — to go forth and teach 
all nations the substitution of kindness for bru- 
tality in the management of horses. To that 
land where the horse is more respected than 
elsewhere — England — he turned, in 1857. It 
was a skeptical and suspicious audience that 
attended the first private exhibition the adven- 
turous young American gave on English soil. 
Horses unmanageable in the hands of their 
owners, if not positively vicious, — horses the 
Ohio country boy had never seen until they 
were brought into the ring, — were submitted 
to his manipulation. His success elicited un- 
bounded enthusiasm. Particularly were the 

cavalry officers in her Majesty's service his ad- American a career in many respects without a 
mirers. To the delight of young Rarey, he was parallel in history. 

invited to Prince Albert's farm, near Windsor So sudden and brilliant a success did not fail 
Castle. Colonel Hood, the Prince's equerry, to invite suspicion, if not enmity. Rarey was 
and his wife, Lady May Hood, received him, accused of using drugs, " casting the evil eye," 
and were not slow in making his skill known to and kindred occult arts. The crucial test, how- 
the Queen. An exhibition before the Queen ever, came in the form of a challenge from no 
followed, which not only surpassed the most less a personage than Lord Dorchester. The 
sanguine expectations of her Majesty and all latter was the owner of a fine, blooded race- 
the royal spectators, but opened to the young horse, " Cruiser," a favorite for the Derby. A 

month before one Derby Day 
the horse had broken down. 
Like all horses of the same 
family, his temper was not the 
mildest, and his owner was glad 
to get rid of him. When started 
for Rawcliffe, the groom who had 
him in charge was told on no ac- 
count to put him in a stable, as 
he would never get him out. This 
injunction was, of course, disre- 
garded. When the groom wanted 
refreshments he put Cruiser in 
the public stable, and left him. 
To get him out, the roof of the 
building had to be ripped off. 
Few were bold enough to venture 
'rarey taught the horse that man is his master." into Cruisers mclosure. 1 he 





3 2 4 



AN INVINCIBLE HORSE-TAMER. 



[Feb. 



horse's temper had depreciated 
his value five thousand dollars. 

For three years he had been 
abandoned to himself. Tormented 
by huge bits loaded with chains, 
his head was incased in a com- 
plication of iron ribs and plates, 
so that he had to procure his food 
by licking it up with his tongue. 
Oppression and cruelty had made 
him a demon. He resented the 
approach of any one by fearful 
screams and yells of hate and 
fury. He snapped an iron bar, 
an inch in diameter, in two 
pieces with his teeth. The heavy 
planks that formed his prison he frequently 
kicked into splinters. 

" Cruiser, I think," said Lord Dorchester, in 
his challenge, " would be the right horse in the 
right place to try Mr. Rarey's skill; and the 
sooner the experiment is made, the better. If 
he can ride Cruiser as a hack I guarantee him 
immortality and enough ready money to make 
a British bank-director's mouth water." 

" I will tell you," said Mr. Rarey, in recount- 
ing this crowning incident of his career, " what 
happened at my first interview with Cruiser. 
I believe there is some cause for everything a 
horse does. He acts according to the impres- 
sions on his mind. Instead of throwing out a 
stick to fight him, when I first approached 
Cruiser, I threw open the door and walked in. 
He was astonished at seeing this, and more so 




MR. RAREY S PETS — TWO SHETLAND PONIES. 




MR. RAREY LEADING 



FROM THE STABLE. 



at my exhibiting no fear. He had on his head 
a large muzzle, lined inside and out with iron. 
He had worn it three years, until it bored a 
hole in his head. I took it off, and he never 
wore it again." 

In three hours Lord Dorchester was able 
to mount Cruiser, and Rarey rode the horse 
as a hack to London. Cruiser became the 
.property of his tamer. The fortune of Mr. 
Rarey was made. All classes, headed by the 
nobility, flocked to his lectures and exhibitions. 
Lord Palmerston opened the subscription list to 
Mr. Rarey's private instructions, given in the 
riding-academy of the Duke of Wellington. 
Queen Victoria was among the first to express 
joy at the regeneration of Cruiser, and to regret 
the hard usage to which the horse had been 
subjected. Frequently she caressed the beau- 
tiful creature with her own hand. 
On the eve of the marriage of the 
Princess Royal, Mr. Rarey was 
invited by the Queen to give in 
the riding-school at Buckingham 
Palace an exhibition before the 
royal guests summoned to the 
wedding. The next day he was 
honored by an invitation to . the 
wedding at St. James's Palace. 

Under the favorable influ- 
ence of kind treatment, Cruiser 
rapidly improved in appearance. 
His rough, shaggy coat was shed 
for one of the luster of satin. 
Festive in a royal-purple silk 



AN INVINCIBLE HORSE-TAMER. 



3 2 5 



bridle, with rosettes of gold filigree, and the 
look of a war-horse in his high-bred nostrils, 
he followed his master through the capitals of 
Europe. Everywhere throughout his travels 
in the Old World, Mr. Rarey gave free lectures 
and exhibitions to cab and truck-drivers. In 
his remarkable collection of souvenirs is a 
gold medal of wonderfully fine workmanship, 
presented Mr. Rarey by the Royal Society for 
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. 

His skill was not confined to horses. His 
most signal achievement in England was the 
conquest of a zebra. Natural- 
ists, from the days of Aris- 
totle to Cuvier, had 
pronounced a 
zebra un- 
tamable. 



the " King of Science," or his reception by the 
Emperor and Empress of Russia, who never 
ceased to wonder at his subjection of a wild 
horse of the steppes that had been presented to 
the Emperor by the Cossacks, and threatened 
the life of every one that approached him. Not 
only did Mr. Rarey conquer this wild horse, 
but he rode him from the royal country-seat to 
St. Petersburg, into the very presence of the 
Emperor. His study of the horse he pursued 
into Arabia, where he was frequently called 
upon by the natives to exercise his skill. 

At three-and-thirty, the once 

obscure Ohio country 

boy had world-wide 

fame, and had 

earned a 

hundred 




CRUISER AND MR. RAREY POSING 

FOR A PHOTOGRAPH. 



Rarey ex 
pended four **^ 
hours in giving 
the creature its first 
lesson of subordination 
to kindly meant authority. 
It was a most exhausting 
task. Afterward he acknowledged that he 
would rather tame four hundred horses than 
one zebra. Conquered, the striped brute walked, 
trotted, and ambled in the ring as if trained 
from infancy. To the delight and astonishment 
of his audience, he mounted and rode the zebra. 
It was probably the first time such a feat was 
accomplished. The story of his three years' 
wandering in the Old World has all the charm 
of a tale of necromancy. Space is wanting in 
these days of condensation to recall his tri- 
umphs before the crowned heads of Sweden 
and Prussia, where he met Baron Humboldt, 



thousand 
dollars, a 
fortune very un- 
usual in those times. 
To his native village he 
returned, a more loyal American, 
if possible, than when he set sail. 
Groveport never fully recovered from his 
arrival. It is one of the traditions of the vil- 
lage. With him came Cruiser, and many fine 
horses and ponies from the Shetland Islands. 
On the site of the old log cabin he built a 
spacious mansion. There he surrounded his 
beloved mother with every comfort and luxury. 
At the mansion was his wonderful collection 
of souvenirs, medals, and all books on horse- 
training written since Xenophon proclaimed, 
more than two thousands years ago, that 
" horses are taught, not by harshness, but by 
gentleness." Mr. Rarey laid out a race-track, 



326 



AN INVINCIBLE HORSE-TAMER. 




AN EARLY PORTRAIT OF MR. RAREY. 

and in the rear of the mansion built a paddock 
for Cruiser. 

It was the day of stage-coaches, and rarely 
did one pass the mansion without leaving trav- 
elers bent on paying a visit of respect or curi- 
osity to the man who had " opened up a new 
era to the human race." For several years Mr. 
Rarey traveled with Cruiser, repeating in the 
United States the triumphs that had been his 
abroad. His lectures and 
exhibitions vied with the grand 
opera in vogue and attendance. 

His inseparable companion was 
" Prince," a tiny Shetland pony, 
which he had trained until it 
was almost human. He was 
wont to pick the pony up and 
carry it about like a pet dog in 
his arms. 

Cruiser's hind feet were never 
shod. They were like iron. 
The interior of his paddock in the 
Rarey farm was decorated, in time, 
with a frieze made by his rebel- 
lious hoofs. Cruiser traveled in a 
special car, like a prima donna of 



the grand opera. Attendants were always sent 
in advance to erect an inclosure for him. No 
ordinary stable sufficed his kingship. Great 
difficulty was met in retaining grooms. Cruiser's 
record was too terrifying. He once would 
have killed the English groom that accompanied 
him to this country, had not the master come 
to the rescue. So great was the groom's fright 
that he begged to be released from service. 

A picturesque sight on the Groveport pike, in 
those days, was the invincible horse-tamer driv- 
ing a team of elks to the capital. 

Across the road from the mansion Mr. Rarey 
laid out seven hundred acres with fine trees, many 
of which he had transported, at great expense, 
from Europe. It was his purpose to convert it 
into a magnificent zoological garden for the 
rarest animals. To write a complete manual 
of his system of horse-training, and the story of 
his travels, were other achievements he planned, 
never to realize. 

In the flush of youth and fame and fortune, 
rich in an observant, reflective mind, and the 
kindliest, most lovable of characters, John S. 
Rarey died, in his thirty-ninth year. Shortly 
before his death he said : 

" If I could only get back once more to the 
old farm, and put my arms round my dear 
horses' necks, I believe I should get well." 




MR. RAREY S HOUSE IN GROVEPORT, OHIO. 




tmbrntb 



By Harriot Brewer Sterling. 



Miss Dorothy Dot, in her little red 

chair, 
Put her thimble on with a matronly 

air, 

And said : " From this piece of cloth, 

I guess, 
I '11 make baby brother a lovely dress." 

She pulled her needle in and out, 
And over and under and round about, 



,P).U*.^-> 



And through and through, till the 

snowy lawn 
Was bunched and crumpled and 

gathered and drawn. 

She sewed and sewed to the end of 

her thread; 
Then, holding her work to view, she 

said : 

"This is n't a baby-dress, after all ; 
It 's a bonnet for my littlest doll ! " 




327 



TWO LITTLE SERVING-MEN. 




By J. Edmund Vance Cooke. 



VO little serving-men have I, 
And one is strong and very 
spry. 
He loves to hammer, plane, and 

saw, 
To write and, sometimes, even 

draw. 
He takes my hat and hangs it up; 
He reaches down my drinking-cup ; 
He winds my top, and throws my ball. 
I could n't get along at all 
Without this little serving-man 
Who helps me out in every plan. 

The other sympathizes, too, 

But is not half so quick to do. 

Some things he does quite well, but my ! 

Some others he won't even try. 

He will not split the kindling-wood, 

And yet, he is so very good 

He holds it while the other chops. 

He also helps him wind my tops; 

But spin them ? He can't spin at all. 



You ought to see him throw a ball ! 
Just like a girl! And — it 's a shame, 
But he can hardly write his name. 

And yet, these serving-men are twins, 

And look as like as two new pins. 

I think, perhaps, you '11 understand 

If you should know their name. It 's Hand, 

And one, you know, is Right and deft ; 

And one, of course, is slow and Left. 

And yet, you know, I often find 

That if I 'm calm with Left, and kind, 

He '11 do a lot of things, although 

He 's awkward and a little slow ; 

And so I often think, perhaps 

He 's much like me, and other chaps, 

Who know enough to do our part, 

But some quick fellow, extra smart, 

Jumps in and does it first, and so 

We just get used to being slow. 

And that 's the way we don't get trained, 

Because, perhaps, we 're just left-brained .' 



NEW YEAR'S NIGHT. 



* A * 



jr 



By Florence Folsom. 



The Earth is a giant birthday cake, 

A gift to Father Time ; 
And an icing white the snow doth make, 

Sparkling with silver rime. 

The stars, as many as Time hath years, 

For candles stand and shine. 
They were never so bright as on this night 

Of eighteen ninety-nine! 




328 




utatJftliittkwfm IlieweatfierS 
"'way Sown below \yertil 

^Mat tfas istfie costume 
ior ouv fittfe kern 



W.HARRI^ 



4 Wc&a^Gi^av4zvaVAVG>v&^C}v&z?czwc^&vcwGi&c^^ czo doo w^>^ 






St « 






Vol. XXVI.— 42. 



329 



A LITTLE SCHOOL-GIRL 



By Frances Bent Dillingham. 



My teacher says she thinks I may 

Learn even more than she 
If I will study every day. 



I 've just begun to go to school ; 

I 'm tired as can be. 
I can't remember every rule — 
How each one turns and sits and stands, 
And how each one must fold her hands — 

Each little girl like me. 

But that is not the worst to tell : 

I 'd like to have you see 
The lots of words we have to spell. 
There 's hundreds we must learn by heart. 
Grown folks forget they 're much more smart 

Than little girls like me. 

The world is spread out big and wide, 

With rivers, land, and sea, 
And hard long names on every side. 
(The maps are pink and blue and brown.) 
We just supposed there was our town — 

The little girls like me. 



There 's books and books and books to read! 

We study history. 
You would n't think there 's any need 
To have so many lessons more Of course there 's many things to know, 

'Bout things we never heard before— But she says all wise ladies grow 

The little girls like me. From little girls like me. 





^lL_ooise.«)a6ies'C! k rooo-- fror%' Ii tfle« girls -like' rye."' <&<s ~ g&s~&r& 







FEBRUARY 14 ; CUPIDS "BUSY DAY. 



THE INTERCEPTED VALENTINE 





Little Bo-peep, will you be mine ? 

I want you for my Valentine. 

You are my choice of all the girls, 

With your blushing cheeks and your fluttering curls, 

With your ribbons gay and your kirtle neat, 

None other is so fair and sweet. 

Little Bo-peep, let 's run away, 

And marry each other on Midsummer Day ; 

And ever to you I '11 be fond and true. 









[T/lis story was begun in the November number.] 

Chapter VII. 

GRECIAN PAINTERS. 

" We may be reasonably sure," continued 
Uncle Claxton, " that the painters of Greece 
were not behind the sculptors in merit. A 
race so gifted in the one branch of art could 
hardly be deficient in the other. But we have 
no means of judging for ourselves. Canvases 
and colors do not last like marble, and the 
pictures which were considered marvelous two 
thousand years ago have long ceased to exist, 
while the men who produced them are known 
only by their names. In their day, however, 
these names were mighty. Zeuxis, one of the 



you as well as I can. Zeuxis was the one 
to start the business. He went around Athens 
' with his chin in the air,' as Mr. Besant says, 
telling folks he could make better pictures than 
all the other fellows put together. Parrhasius 
did n't think he could stand that, on any 
terms; so they challenged each other, and it 
was arranged that each of them must get up as 
good a piece of work as he could, and let the 
public decide which should hold the champion- 
ship. Zeuxis led off with a man carrying a 
basket of grapes, life-size ; and Parrhasius fol- 
lowed with only a big curtain. When the 
show opened, a lot of birds flew to the grapes 
and tried to nibble them. The people went 
wild over that, and Zeuxis felt sure he was go- 
ing to win in the first round. He called out 



friends of Pericles, had so high an opinion of to Parrhasius to hurry and lift his curtain, if 



his own best works that he refused to sell them 
at any price ; and Parrhasius, his chief rival, 
went about in purple robes, like a monarch, 
and wore a golden crown, to show that he 
considered himself a king in his own sphere. 
It is recorded that these two geniuses once 



there was anything worth looking at behind it ; 
and then the match came to a quick finish, for 
the curtain was the picture, you see, and there 
was nothing at all on the other side. As soon 
as Zeuxis saw how the thing stood, he owned 
up that he was n't in it. He had only fooled 



engaged in a contest of skill which had rather a flock of birds, but Parrhasius had caught a 



1 exclaimed Harry, sud- 
Then you shall tell it 



a comical ending." 

" I know that story ! 
denly. 

" Do you, my boy ? 
to us, here and now." 

" Oh, uncle, I did n't mean that," Harry 
remonstrated, a little abashed. 

" I suppose not," said Uncle Claxton. " Still, 
I don't see why I should not be relieved just 
once. Come, let us have it. Silence, all of 
you but one ! Harry has the floor." 

Harry looked first at his uncle, and then at 
his brothers and sisters, with a much less con- 
fident air than he was accustomed to wear; 
but the idea of disputing the order he had re- 
ceived did not for a moment enter his thoughts. 

"Well, uncle," he presently began, "I may 
not remember everything, but I will tell it to 



first-class painter, who ought to have known 
all the tricks of the trade. Then Parrhasius 
held his chin in the air, and walked off with 
the belt. But Zeuxis behaved very decently 
after it was all over. He admitted that his man 
carrying the grapes must have been badly done, 
or else the birds would n't have dared to go 
near him ; so for that alone he deserved to be 
counted out. That 's all there is of it, I believe. 
What are you laughing at, uncle ? Have n't 
I told it right ? " 

"Oh, yes," said Uncle Claxton, as soon as 
he could get his face straight; "right enough, 
after a fashion; though I never heard it just 
that way before, and I did n't expect you to 
report it as if it were an Athenian prize-fight. 
I hope your sporting phrases have n't been 
all Greek to Amy and Louise. However, you 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



333 



have the facts in good order, and now I should 
like to know where you found them." 

" I say, uncle ! " exclaimed Harry, looking 
blank, " must I tell that ? " 

" Not unless you wish to ; but why should 
you object ? Ah, there 's Amy smiling to 
herself! If she is in the secret, I think we 
might all share it." 

" Amy knows, of course," answered Harry, 
growing a little red. " She saw the story first, 
and showed it to me. Oh, well, there 's no- 
thing to hide. It is in Ollendorff — one of the 
exercises at the end of the book." 

" I see," said Uncle Claxton, "though I did 
not suppose you had reached the end of Ollen- 
dorff yet." 

" We have n't," Amy explained ; " but we 
turn the leaves over, sometimes, when the 
lessons are dull." 

" And sometimes they are," added Harry, 
emphatically, — "awfully dull to us, at any rate." 

Uncle Claxton laughed loud and long before 
he spoke again. " You youngsters pick up 
history in odd places," he said at last. " But 
I must caution you about that anecdote of the 
grapes and the curtain. It may be true that 
there was a contest of the kind described, but 
it could not have been serious. No great 
artist would think it much of a triumph to de- 
ceive either animals or human beings by a 
knack of imitation; and these men, in spite of 
their huge conceit, were artists of the highest 
rank. A remark of Zeuxis has come down 
to us from which we can see that he was no 
careless trifier, at all events. When a painter 
named Agatharcus praised himself for quickness 
in getting through his work, Zeuxis rebuked 
him, saying : ' If I boast, it shall be of the 
slowness with which I finish mine!' He and 
Parrhasius may have amused themselves by 
trying to cheat birds or men, but they would do 
so only in fun. No doubt they knew what fun 
was. Perhaps Zeuxis had too keen a sense of 
humor, for we are told that it cost him his life. 
He went into such a fit of mirth over a droll 
picture he had made of an old woman, that he 
broke a blood-vessel, and died instantly." 

" I should like to see that picture ! " cried 
Harry. 

" Probably you would," said Uncle Claxton, 



" though I am afraid your reason is not a very 
good one. By and by I hope you will have 
better grounds for being sorry that we have no 
specimens of what the Greek painters did — 
not only Parrhasius and his companions, but 
those of a century later, who were at least 
equally renowned. They were all hard and 
patient workers. One of them, named Pro- 
togenes, gave seven years to a single picture 
illustrating the legend of Ialysus and his dogs. 
To show what self-denial he was capable of for 
the sake of his art, I may tell you that dur- 
ing all that time he lived upon thin and taste- 
less herbs, believing that if he took substantial 
food he could not keep his nerves steady or his 
judgment clear. He was finishing this piece, 
at Rhodes, when Demetrius, known as Polior- 
cetes, or the Taker of Cities, captured that 
place. During the siege Demetrius set fire to 
the greater part of the city, and he might have 
subdued it much more quickly if he had also 
burned the district where Protogenes had his 
studio ; but he preferred to wait, rather than 
disturb the artist. Apelles, who was visiting 
Rhodes, and who was considered the first 
painter of that age, thought that his friend had 
labored too long over this particular work, 
which he believed might have been better done 
in less time. People said that his opinion was 
upheld by a curious circumstance that hap- 
pened. Protogenes had tried repeatedly to 
represent the froth on the mouth of a fierce 
dog, but could not satisfy himself. Vexed at his 
failure, he threw a sponge at the canvas, and, to 
his surprise, produced the very effect he needed. 
The picture was afterward carried to Rome, 
where Cicero saw it and recorded the incident. 
You are not to suppose, however, that Apelles 
was ever hasty or careless. No one could be 
more painstaking, and his industry was pro- 
verbial. ' Not a day without a stroke ' was the 
maxim he adopted. He was especially favored 
by Alexander the Great, who gave him the 
same privilege, in his art, that Lysippus en- 
joyed as a sculptor. He alone was permitted 
to paint portraits of the mighty warrior, who, 
though a generous master, was apt to be ex- 
tremely exacting. Apelles had to bear some 
adverse criticism at times, and he did not always 
take it quietly. He made a likeness of Alex- 



334 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Feb. 



ander on horseback, which his patron found 
fault with persistently, until a live horse caught 
sight of it, and ran up, neighing in salutation to 
the counterfeit steed. Then Apelles had the 
pleasure of remarking that the animal appeared 
to be a better judge than the monarch. This 
was more creditable to his courage and inde- 
pendence than to his artistic sense ; for, as I 
have told you, it is not praiseworthy in the fine 
arts to copy nature so exactly as to mislead 
spectators. Moreover, Alexander was probably 
right in this case. Old writers have testified that 
the portrait was not up to the proper standard 
of Apelles." 

" And did all these artists send their works 
to Athens ? " Amy inquired. 

" Oh, no. Athens was the chief center while 
Pericles governed, but the painters were more 
scattered afterward. The most celebrated 
group settled at Sicyon, where a school was 
founded by Pamphilus, — another man who 
honored his art above all things. Through his 
influence a law was passed permitting only the 
sons of noble and virtuous families to study 
painting. 

" Apelles had been a pupil of Pamphilus, 
and though he traveled in many lands at a 
later period, he always gratefully recalled his 
connection with Sicyon. Nor was he ever for- 
gotten there. That city was long oppressed by 
cruel usurpers, who were at last overthrown and 
killed in a revolution. The leader of the peo- 
ple, Aratus, ordered that all the portraits of the 
tyrants should be destroyed ; but he was in- 
duced by the artist Nealces to spare a portion 
of one of the condemned pieces because it was 
known that Apelles had worked upon it. The 
figure of the despot was effaced, but the sur- 
rounding details were suffered to remain, out 
of respect to the memory of the great master. 

" Hundreds of fine pictures were kept in 
Sicyon until Greece lost her liberty entirely, 
and then they were seized by one invader after 
another, and taken to Rome. Our friend Lu- 
cullus was fortunate enough to purchase one of 
the best — a famous composition by Pausias — 
for the small sum of two talents. I can't tell 
you the exact amount in our money, for the 
value of the talent was not the same in all 
countries, nor equal in different parts of the 



same country; but I think it was about one 
thousand dollars." 

" That does seem a small price," said Amy, 
" when you think of what was paid for statues." 

"Yes, my dear; and especially when we 
think of what so high an authority as Pliny 
wrote about the value of Grecian paintings. 
Speaking of Melanthius, another of the Sicyon 
fraternity and a student under Pamphilus, he 
said that a single one of his works was fairly 
worth the entire wealth of a city. But when 
the Romans bought these treasures, the Greeks 
were in desperate financial straits, and not in a 
position to make their own terms. Sicyon, for 
example, was so encumbered with debt, a little 
before Csesar's time, that almost the whole mass 
of pictures stored there for centuries passed into 
the possession of a rich edile named Scaurus, 
at a comparatively insignificant price. The 
ediles were the local magistrates of Rome; and 
when Scaurus held this office, it pleased him 
to build a magnificent theater, or circus, large 
enough to hold thirty thousand persons, — some 
say more than twice that number, — which he 
decorated with thousands of statues and pic- 
tures, among which were his prizes from Sicyon. 
As the power of Rome increased, scarcely any 
of the noble artistic productions of Greece were 
left in the land of their creation. All that the 
conquerors could lay their hands on were trans- 
ferred to Italy. It is rather a pity that the stu- 
pendous design of the architect Stasicrates was 
not carried out. The Romans would have 
been puzzled to displace the monument which 
he projected, if Alexander had allowed him to 
execute it." 

" I should think that anything a man could 
make might also be moved," said Percy. 

" In this case," his uncle explained, " it would 
have been necessary to move a mountain. Sta- 
sicrates conceived the idea of transforming 
Mount Athos, in Thrace, into a huge statue. 
He told Alexander that he would undertake to 
make a human figure of it. in such an attitude 
that a city of ten thousand inhabitants should 
lie in the left hand and a broad river flow 
through the right to the sea. As long as the 
world should hold together, he promised that 
this memorial should stand and testify to the 
grandeur of his royal master. If Alexander 



I8 99 .] 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



335 



had said the word it would have been done. 
There was nothing superhuman in the enter- 
prise. The building of the pyramid of Cheops 
was quite as laborious a task. But the plan did 
not win the monarch's approval. He made 
the practical objection that the country about 
Mount Athos was too bare and unproductive 
to supply the proposed city with food; so he 
denied himself the glory of having a mountain 
carved into his likeness, and Greece lost the 
chance of owning one work of art of which she 
never could be robbed." 

The dinner was at an end, and Uncle Clax- 
ton gave the signal for leaving the table. 

" Let us take another turn in my show- 
rooms," he said. " You did n't catch sight of 
my new acquisitions while you were there. 
Before going home you can spend another 
hour looking at them, and get some notions 
about the world upside down." 

Chapter VIII. 

THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN. 

Uncle Claxton led the small party to a 
section of his museum in which a profusion of 
Oriental rarities lay scattered about, the walls 
being hung with bows and arrows, spears, 
swords, and quaint pictures on silk, while curi- 
ous lanterns, some very beautiful in shape and 
rich in color, were suspended here and there 
from the ceiling. 

" But we know all these," said Percy, 
glancing around. ' ; This is the Japanese 
room." 

"You have not examined closely," his uncle 
replied. " A fresh lot came only a few days 
ago — not large, but more interesting than my 
old collection." 

" What did you mean, uncle," asked Dick, 
" by ' the world upside down ' ? " 

" I must send you to the big globe in the 
hall, my boy. Louise will go with you and 
point out Japan. You will see that it is on 
the opposite side of the earth, and if you could 
look through the planet you would see the 
people who live there really walking upside 
down — or nearly so." 

The two youngest children went as bidden, 
and on their return Master Dick had more new 



questions to ask than could be attended to 
conveniently. 

" Wait till we are alone some day," his uncle 
told him. " Then I will try to make all these 
things clear to you. But the others under- 
stand them already, and it would n't be fair 
to take up their time now." 

" Although we know it is true," said Amy, 
" it does seem too strange for anything that 
the Japanese should walk with the soles of 
their feet turned toward ours." 

" As ours are toward them," answered Uncle 
Claxton. " They have as much right to say we 
are upside down as we have to call them so. 
When they first began to compare our habits 
and customs with theirs, and found how 
directly opposite they were in many respects, 
they thought almost everything we did was 
topsy-turvy. But they have adopted plenty of 
our methods since then, and turned them to 
excellent account." 

" Were you upside down, uncle, when you 
lived there ? " demanded Dick. 

" I was like everybody else in that region, 
Dick. When I stood up my feet were turned 
toward the earth's center, and you might call my 
position upside down, if you compare it with the 
way in which we are standing here. But that 
was only my bodily attitude. I did not follow 
all the Eastern ideas that were contrary to my 
experience. If I went riding, I did not beau- 
tify my steed by putting on his tail and ears 
bags of bright-colored brocade, such as are 
hanging in yonder corner; nor did I mount 
from the right side of the horse, which was 
formerly considered the proper way in Japan. 
The ordinary lanterns and umbrellas of that 
country are made of paper, like those you see 
in this room ; but I preferred glass for the one, 
and silk for the other — though I can't tell 
exactly why. When I rowed my boat on the 
river, I pulled the oars, instead of pushing 
them, with a peculiar twist, as the Japanese 
do. If I happened to sneeze, I did not feel 
bound to tap myself on the shoulder imme- 
diately after, which is the invariable rule 
among them. In celebrating the Fourth of July 
I set off my rockets and Roman candles at 
night, though in that country daylight is con- 
sidered more suitable for fireworks — as it also 



33& 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Feb. 



is for the theatrical performances. In building 
me a house, the workmen began with the foun- 
dation, not with the roof — " 

" Excuse me, uncle," interrupted Harry ; 
"it can't be possible that the Japanese build 
their roofs first ? " 

" Indeed it is. I don't mean that they go 
to work in mid-air, without anything to rest 
upon. Aladdin's Lamp would be needed for 
that sort of architecture. They do set up 
supporting posts at the corners, and stretch 
scaffoldings all around ; but then they start 
with their roof, and generally finish it at once, 
filling in the lower parts afterward." 

" I suppose nobody but a Japanese would 
take hold of the wrong end in that fashion," 
said Percy. 

" They don't think it the wrong end, and no 
doubt they have their reasons, as the ancient 
Egyptians had theirs for completing the tops 
of the pyramids first. The pyramids, I may 
tell you, were originally faced with smooth, 
polished stone, which had to be laid from the 
summit downward, because no workman could 
have kept his footing on the slippery surface. 
As to Japanese roofs, their construction re- 
quires more care and labor than all the rest of 
a house, and it is found convenient to get 
through with them at the outset. In recent 
years, however, many buildings have been put 
up in our style, and the old process may be 
abandoned before long. Those people are 
almost too ready to lay aside what they have 
always been accustomed to, and love change 
for the sake of novelty." 

" But if the changes are good for them ? " 
suggested Amy. 

"Ah, my dear, that is often a hard matter 
to decide! On some points their original ideas 
are certainly better than those they take from 
us. Look at their umbrellas, for a small ex- 
ample. Don't you think that the people of the 
East ought to know more about them than we 
do ? They have been used in Asia for ages, 
but were scarcely heard of in Europe until two 
or three hundred years ago." 

" I have seen a picture," said Amy, " of the 
first Englishman who carried one. He was 
surrounded by a crowd of boys pointing at 
him and jeering at the strange object." 



" That was Jonas Hanway, a traveling mer- 
chant," her uncle explained. " He took home 
from the East an umbrella, which was supposed 
by many of his countrymen to be the first 
seen in Europe. But it was not the first, nor 
anything like it. Long previous to his time, 
umbrellas were known on the Continent, and 
were not entirely unheard of even in the British 
Islands. The observant author Montaigne no- 
ticed some in Italy in the sixteenth century. 
Drayton, an English poet, spoke of them early 
in the seventeenth. Jonas Hanway did not re- 
turn from Asia until about the middle of the 
eighteenth century ; and a few years before 
that, the great General Wolfe, who afterward 
conquered Canada, had written a letter from 
Paris, saying that these convenient inventions 
were common in the streets of Paris, and ex- 
pressing surprise that they had not been intro- 
duced into his own country. Hanway attracted 
particular attention because he persisted in car- 
rying one through the streets of his native 
town, in spite of the uncomplimentary remarks 
of his neighbors, who promptly made up their 
minds that a thing so new and singular could 
not possibly be tolerated. After hooting at it 
and its owner for a while, they concluded to 
adopt it ; and the wonder is that they did not 
claim it as an original native production. But 
the East has always been the natural home of 
the umbrella. In Japan nobody is without 
one; and, to my thinking, the cheap paper arti- 
cle, which costs only ten or twenty cents, and 
serves its purpose perfectly well, is much more 
sensible than the costly contrivances that we 
turn out ! What is wrong with this ? " — and 
Uncle Claxton unfolded a .large Japanese um- 
brella, made of daintily tinted paper, with a 
bright-red border. " It is a gay and cheerful 
object to the eye, and is so shaped that it sends 
the rain away from the holder, which ours do 
not. Two persons can walk under this, and 
neither need get wet. It two persons use an 
American umbrella, neither can keep dry. You 
must not imagine that paper is necessarily a 
weak or flimsy material. Light as it seems, it 
has strength enough to take the place of iron 
for some purposes. Such solid objects as the 
wheels of railroad-cars have been made of it. 
Many a time, in the East, I have worn paper 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



337 




"][in»<W 



HANWAY ATTRACTED ATTENTION BECAUSE HE PERSISTED IN CARRYING AN UMBRELLA THROUGH 
THE STREETS OF HIS NATIVE TOWN." 



overcoats — not for warmth, but for protection ago, you can't help admiring. Although in Tokio 

against rain or moisture. They have often kept I had mine made of metal and glass, so that they 

me from catching a chill in the damp climate, should not catch fire, I must say the paper style 

Now, their lanterns, which I mentioned awhile is vastly prettier and more ornamental. Look 
Vol. XXVI.— 43. 



333 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



[Feb. 



at those four hanging in my window. They day performances by the Japanese is a very 

are really works of art, both in form and color- matter-of-fact one. Until recently they had no 

ing. If you want a splendid illumination for means of lighting their buildings artificially, 

any festivity, you can have nothing cheaper or The whole nation was in the dark, or verv 




'ZEUXIS CALLED OUT TO PARRHASIUS TO HURRY AND LIFT HIS CURTAIN. 



more tasteful. Then, as to fireworks, no doubt 
the night is the most appropriate time for them; 
but the daylight displays of Japan are none the 
less marvels of ingenuity. They owe their ef- 
fect to combinations of smoke, variously tinted, 
and to figures of animals and human beings, 
or sometimes temples, ships, and palaces, made 
of paper, stretched upon wires, and folded com- 
pactly into bombs. When shot upward from 
mortars, and let loose high in the air, they 
spread out to a great size, and float gracefully 
to the ground. Wait till Independence Day, 
and you shall see some of these that have been 
sent to me. Another show for which the broad 
sunshine seems unsuitable to us is the theatrical 
play. We have our matinees, of course, but 
we use gas and electric burners in the after- 
noon as we do at night. The reason for 



nearly so, after sunset, and evening exhibitions 
were out of the question. So their plays be- 
gan — as, indeed, they still do — early in the 
morning, and lasted as long as the actors could 
be seen moving about. People have their 
meals brought in from restaurants, and eat 
them between the acts." 

" Then they have no changes from light to 
shadow," said Percy. 

" Only by a very clumsy process. If they 
want to represent a scene of darkness, they 
send men to close all the window-shutters in 
the house, which takes a deal of time and 
makes a lot of noise. On the whole, the Jap- 
anese theaters are years behind ours. The 
actors are good, but the practice of employing 
men to play women's parts spoils the natural 
effect of all they do. Their dresses are gen- 



•] 



BRIGHT SIDES OF HISTORY. 



339 



erally superb, but they know next to nothing 
about scenery or mechanical illusions, and their 
only really ingenious device is the revolving 
stage. This is exactly like a railway turn- 
table, so arranged that everything in sight of 
the audience can be shifted around while the 
action goes on. For certain transformations 
it is an immense advantage to swing the entire 
stage in a circle ; and our theaters have no 
machinery quite equal to it. But that is the 
only point of superiority they can possibly 
claim. We must look elsewhere to find things 
worth imitating among the Japanese." 

" You told us, uncle," said Harry, " that 
their style of rowing was peculiar. How does 
that compare with ours ? " 

" Whether it enables them to make as good 
time as we do, or not," Uncle Claxton an- 
swered, " is still an open question, I believe; 
I have never heard of a thoroughly satisfactory 
trial of speed ; but their boatmen can certainly 
keep at work longer and cover much greater 
distances than ours. The oars they use are 
big and heavy, and being made of two pieces 
of wood spliced together, they have a clumsy 
and unwieldy appearance. But their weight 
is not really a disadvantage, since they are 
never lifted out of the water. Our method of 
raising oars and swinging them back for each 



fresh stroke is undoubtedly a waste of force, 
and in this particular the Japanese have the 
better of us. Their motion is very much like 
our New England sculling, which every Bos- 
ton boy should know all about ; only, with us 
there can be but one sculler in a boat, stand- 
ing at the stern, while there may be any num- 
ber in a Japanese boat, ranged along the sides. 
It is a stirring sight to see a large fleet of fish- 
ing-craft dashing up the Sumida River, after a 
day's cruise at sea, each with a dozen or twenty 
stout fellows standing erect in double line from 
stem to stern, singing lustily in time to their 
swift strokes, and straining every muscle to 
reach the fish-market ahead of the others. As 
a picture of splendid physical vigor and good- 
humored strife, I think no American or English 
boat-race can excel it." 

" They ought to be fine sailors," said Percy. 

" None better in the world. The Japanese 
were a race of sea-rovers until one of their rulers 
made the stupid blunder of shutting off inter- 
course with the rest of mankind and compel- 
ling his people to stay at home. I have a 
model of one of their ancient ships in this big 
case. Help me unpack it, and you shall see 
the sort of vessel in which some of them crossed 
the Pacific Ocean about a century after Amer- 
ica was discovered by Columbus." 



{To be continued.) 




THE ELVES SPELLING-LESSON. 




By Rupert Hughes. 



As every one knows, young folks that never tograph : they fade into nothing under the 
do what they should not do, and never leave glare of the sun. 

undone what they ought to do, run a great risk Well, then, since this young man had be- 
of meeting some day a good fairy who will say, . friended the fairy, the fairy King was eager to 



in a musical voice : 

" Thomas " (or " Richard " or " Henry," as the 
case may be), " since you have been a good 
boy, the gracious King of the Fairies has de- 
cided to reward you bountifully. Any three 
wishes you may make will be granted, what- 
ever they are. But be very careful what you 
choose ! " 

Now, there was once a lad named Albert 
Crane. He was related to the King of the 
fairies by the marriage of a great-uncle, on his 
mother's side, to the second cousin of an inti- 
mate friend of a passing acquaintance of a 
young man who had once saved the life of a 
fairy who was caught in a rain-storm about 
midnight and could not fly home. If she had 
stayed out till sunrise she would have died, as 
you all know; and her wings were so wet that 
she was having a sorry time of it when this 
young man picked her gently up by the nape 



show his gratitude in any way and every way 
possible, even to relatives as far removed as 
the eye could reach. He was very anxious, 
for this reason, to grant the three wishes to 
Albert Crane. But Albert was such a mischie- 
vous little fellow that it seemed he would never 
be able to express his gratitude in that direc- 
tion. The lowest average of good behavior on 
which the diploma of the three wishes will be 
granted is three weeks. (No wonder so few 
young people ever get the wishes !) Albert 
Crane seemed the most hopeless of all. He 
was so far from being able to stay good three 
weeks in succession that nothing could trap 
him into being good even one day in succes- 
sion. There is no need of telling you all the 
mischievous things he did, because, if you have 
not already done them all yourself before, you 
might learn something new. 

But just as the fairy King was giving up in 



of the neck, and hid her under a candle-snuffer despair, Albert fell sick, and was kept in bed 



till the next night, thus saving her from the 
fatal glance of the sun. And this is a thing you 
must all do when you find a fairy in distress ; 
for fairies are like the unfixed proofs of a pho- 



for a whole month. He was too weak to carry 
out any mischief, or even to plan it ; and the 
fairy King jumped at the chance to relieve 
himself of the debt he thought he owed to 



340 



THE LATEST NEWS ABOUT THE THREE WISHES. 



341 



Albert's mother's uncle's second cousin's inti- 
mate friend's passing acquaintance's young man. 

So one day, — the first day Albert was strong 
enough to go out into the woods alone, and 
before he could rob any birds' nests or do any- 
thing else wrongful, — he was surprised beyond 
expression to see standing before him a beauti- 
ful girl with long brown hair and bright blue 
eyes, and a wand with a star on it. And on 
her shoulders grew beautiful butterfly wings 
that must have cost between $3.99 at Browny 
& Pixie's bargain-counter. Albert recognized 
her at once from her re- 
semblance to the fairies 
in the picture-books ; 
and for the first time he 
saw how true all such 
pictures are. 

Before Albert could 
make up his mind to 
do what he usually did 
when he met pretty 
girls, — pull their hair 
till the tears came, — 
the fairy spoke to him, 
and said the words 
quoted above, except 
that in the printed 
blank the King had 
given her was written 
the name Albert in- 
stead of Tom, Dick, or 
Harry. 

When Albert heard 
the fairy's little speech, 
which she delivered 
like a Friday afternoon 
recitation, — only she 
forgot the curtsy at 
the end, — he was too 
much amazed for a 
moment to say a word. 
His memory ran back 
over all the similar experiences of youngsters 
who had been accosted by fairies for some 
good deed. He had never expected any such 
experience himself, and was not prepared with 
an immediate answer; but he remembered the 
fates of several of the children to whom the 
gift of three wishes had been given. 



Some of the boys asked, first, for all the candy 
they could eat ; second, for all the red circus- 
lemonade they could drink ; and third, for all 
the baseball runs they could score. Albert 
never forgot the fate of these poor wretches — 
the terrible stomach-aches the candy gave 
them, how sick they grew of lemonade, and 
how their baseball games lasted so long they 
could never go home to dinner or to bed. Be- 
cause, of course, the three wishes they wished 
were fulfilled to the last degree, and they had 
no extra wish to save them from the penalty 




ALBERT RECOGNIZED HER AT ONCE FROM HER RESEMBLANCE TO THE FAIRIES 
IN THE PICTURE-BOOKS." 



of the first three. Albert had read of other 
boys, who, unlike him, had always enjoyed 
Sunday-school, and never stole a ride on a 
wagon or threw a rock through a street-lamp. 
They always wished, first, for virtue; second, for 
wisdom; and third, for a chance to do good in 
the world. But these things did not appeal to 



342 



THE LATEST NEWS ABOUT THE THREE WISHES. 



[Feb. 



Albert at all, for he was a little imp. His father 
called him a limb, though he never specified 
whether he was a hickory limb or a limb of 
" slippery-ellum." 

Albert was very much puzzled over his 
wishes. He wanted so many things at once 
that his brain went into a whirl. He felt as 
if he had been tied in a merry-go-round for 
weeks. The whole world was one great merry- 
go-round to him. 

The fairy stood and watched the boy till she 
remembered an appointment she had in China, 
a few minutes later, to carry the three wishes 
to a little pigtail, who would probably wish, first, 
for as much rice as he could eat ; second, for 
as many fire-crackers as he could set off; and 
last (and least), for good luck with his lessons. 

Then the fairy spoke as sharply as a street- 
car conductor saying " Step lively, there!" and 
brought Albert to his senses in a moment. 
Now, Albert was a lawyer's son, and a happy 
thought struck him. Instead of choosing any 
three wishes out of the thousand things a boy 
of his age could wish, he suddenly said, with a 
bluntness that took the fairy's breath away : 

" If I choose one wish only, will you make 
me three times as sure of getting it ? " 

The fairy was too much startled to under- 
stand what this strange request might mean, 
and before she thought she accepted : 

" Yes, if you wish." 

" You promise ? " persisted Albert. 

" I promise," said the fairy. 

" Well, then," said Albert, with the slowness 
of a judge, " I make this one wish : that every 
wish I make in all the rest of my life shall be 
granted." 

This was something the fairy had not ex- 
pected. She had never heard of such a thing, 
and it almost scared her to death to think what 
she had done. It would have scared her to 
death, if there were any death for fairies. 

" I shall have to see the King," she cried ; 
and before Albert could grab her by her back 
hair she had disappeared. Then Albert stood 
nonplussed for a moment, and wished he had 
not been so greedy. It made him sicker than 
he had been all the month before, and he felt 
very much like lying down and crying his eyes 
out. In fact, he had just decided that would 



be a good thing to do, when there was a buzz 
and a whizz and a flash, and there stood the 
King of the fairies himself. 

Albert dropped down on his knees before the 
bright apparition, and heard the King saying : 

" What trick is this you are trying to play on 
us ? You are the worst boy that ever lived ! 
I have been trying for half a year to keep you 
good long enough to grant you the three 
wishes, and now you try to play a trick upon 
me ! As a punishment for your presumption, 
you shall have no wish at all." 

But Albert, being a lawyer's son, was not to 
be put out of countenance, and he said, as if it 
were the Fourth of July and he were saying, 
" Give me liberty, or give me death " : 

" Your Majesty, whatever my past history may 
be, you have given your sacred promise, and 
you cannot break it." 

The fairy King blustered and stormed and 
threatened and pleaded ; but Albert was obsti- 
nate, and finally the King flew away in a great 
huff, snapping : 

" Keep your old wish, then ! " 

So Albert went home very triumphant. Find- 
ing that he had walked a long way and was a 
little tired and weak from his illness, he wished 
for a beautiful Shetland pony ; and before he 
knew how it came, there it was. So he got on 
its back, and just as he wished it would gallop 
away, even before he could say " Get up," it 
galloped. But Albert had never learned to ride 
before, and he was being jolted into a cream- 
cheese, when he wished that he might be an 
expert rider. So he was. 

Remembering that his home was not a very 
beautiful one, for his father was a poor lawyer, 
— in both senses of the word, — he wished that 
he might find his mother and father and brothers 
and sisters in a beautiful mansion. So he did. 

But when he went into this beautiful home 
he found that the butcher and the baker and 
the grocer had got tired of having their bills 
unpaid, and had refused to give his father any 
more credit ; so, for all the beautiful house, 
there was nothing to eat ; and much as the 
family was mystified at the change in their 
dwelling, they were not too much mystified to 
be hungry. So Albert simply wished all his 
father's bills receipted, and a beautiful dinner 



THE LATEST NEWS ABOUT THE THREE WISHES. 



343 



served in the magnificent dining-room. So 
everything was done as he wished. 

It would take all the rest of your life to tell 
all the beautiful experiences he had, so if you 
have anything else to do this year, we '11 skip 
most of it. He got his wisher so well trained 
that he could wish for so many things at one 
time that the whole fairy court had to quit all 
other work and attend to him. On beautiful 
moonlight nights they were too tired to dance 
in the woods. Besides, Albert was just as likely 
to wish in his sleep as when he was awake. 

The fine thing about Albert's experience was 
that it was unlike that of the bad boys who had 



wished for candy and red lemonade. When 
they made themselves sick, there was nothing 
to do but suffer. When Albert over-ate, all he 
had to do was to wish himself cured. If there 
was an especially beautiful dinner before him, 




'HE WISHED FOR A BEAUTIFUL SHETLAND PONY; AND 
BEFORE HE KNEW HOW IT CAME, THERE IT WAS." 



he wished himself an extra good appetite and 
digestion till he had finished all there was in 
sight and was tired of eating. 

He wished to have Christmas every day 
until he got as tired of it as Mr. Howells' little 
girl grew. Then he wished for Fourth of July 
every day till that bored him. Then he wished 
that he might know all his lessons without 
going to school, until he found that one of the 
chief pleasures of knowledge is the pleasure of 
getting it. He wished that all the trees with 
birds' nests in them would be easy to climb 
until he saw how much pain he was causing 



344 



THE LATEST NEWS ABOUT THE THREE WISHES. 



the mother birds, and how many songs he was 
hushing in the woods by robbing the nests of 
the eggs which would some day be songsters. 

He wished his baseball nine to win all the 
games by tremendous scores, till he saw how 
uninteresting it was to be certain of everything. 

In fact, in time he came to believe that, after 
all, life was very good and full of pleasures and 
opportunities just as it was, and without fairy 
power to change it. He saw the use of pain, 
and, understanding this, came to sympathize 



severely alone. They would n't play with him, 
they would n't go to school with him, and they 
would n't even fight with him. It would have 
been bad enough to be called "teacher's pet"; 
he could n't endure being called " fairy's pet." 

One day, in his loneliness, he cried, " Plague 
take the wish ! I wish I were without it ! " 




'THE FAIRY COURT STOOD ON THEIR HEADS WITH JOY 
WHEN THEIR LONG SERVICE WAS OVER." 



with the rest of the world, and to be very mer- 
ciful and very charitable and very thoughtful. 

But even this happiness palled on him. He 
was ashamed to be so different from the other 
boys, and he felt that he had no friends at all, 
because he was no fit companion for boys that 
had to work hard for all the fun they had, as 
well as all the serious things they accomplished. 
He saw that his life was merely one continued 
story of good luck — a mere fairy story ; and 
he felt that he never deserved pleasures, be- 
cause he had done nothing to earn them. 

Besides, the other boys began to let him 



Suddenly he felt something rip, and in a 
great fright he gasped, " No ; I wish my wish 
to come back ! " But when he wished for a 
glass of chocolate ice-cream soda to appear on 
a tree-stump near by, not a thing happened. 

The fairy court stood on their heads with joy 
when Albert's wish came crashing through a win- 
dow, and they knew their long service was over. 

But Albert was happier still, for he was ad- 
mitted to a ball game when he said he was no 
longer a professional wisher. And when he 
put up his hands to catch a " beauty " fly, he 
muffed it and got a bruised finger to boot. 
And when he went to bat he missed the ball 
three times. And he was so happy at being a 
human boy again that he hugged himself; and 
that evening he ran home crying: " Hooray I 
hooray ! We lost the game ! " 



BOOKS AND READING FOR YOUNG FOLK. 



Concerning authors whose works were at mentioned by Chaucer, Lydgate, Shakspere, 

Drayton, and Donne, and quotes a writer in 
" Notes and Queries " who states that Valentine 
presents in the English town Norwich were 
marked " G. M. V.," for "Good Morrow, 
Valentine." 



first unwritten and carried in the memory alone, 
a St. Nicholas contributor sends us this inter- 
esting answer to our inquiry : 

If Homer, /Esop, and Epictetus had lived under differ- 
ent circumstances, they might have been able to write 
out the works which made them famous ; for as far back 
as the mind can trace, there has always been some way 
of preserving the spoken thought after it has been 
uttered. Homer's poverty and supposed blindness 
might account for his poems having been long unwritten. 
.^Esop and Epictetus, being slaves, probably could not 
obtain the expensive outfit which a scribe of that age 
required, even had they known how to write 
search for other authors whose works were first handed 
down by word of mouth, has added to the list the name 
of Socrates, who was surely an author if style, diction, 
and exactness of thought count for anything. At least, 
he founded a school of philosophy, and his words of 
wisdom have been preserved in the writings of his fol- 
lowers, especially Plato. 

Then there is another ancient classic author, the poet 
Anacreon, born in Teos, a city on the coast of Asia 
Minor, about 562 B. c, in speaking of whom one account 
says: "The poets of his time recited their lines, lyre in 
hand, striking upon it the measure best suited to their 
songs ; doubtless the poems of Anacreon were delivered 
in this way." It is possible that these verses were 
composed on the spot, and that memory alone has pre 



A pleasant club has recently been formed 
in a small town. At their fortnightly meetings 
some interesting book, well illustrated, is se- 
lected to be read aloud by one of the members. 
The room is made dark, save for the disk of 
The light from a shaded lamp in the reader's corner, 
and in the course of the reading the various 
pictures are thrown by a magic lantern upon a 
screen. 

One precaution is especially important : the 
book or poem chosen for each session must not 
be too long, as, if the reading takes two even- 
ings, the intervening time would tend to break 
the spell and decrease the interest. 



A half-hour taken from every twenty-four, 

and devoted to some reading that is really worth 

while, counts up in the days, weeks, months, 

served them to us in then-present "form' The minstrels and y ears - Care should be taken that the half- 



of all nations have handed down many of their best pro- 
ductions by word of mouth, singing their poems to the 
music of their harps. Among the most noted of these 
are Csedmon and Cadwallon. The former was an Anglo- 
Saxon who lived about the seventh century ; the latter 
appeared in the early years of the Crusades; and both 
were sweet and inspired singers. Belle Moses. 



hour should have its settled place in the day's 
program. 

An excellent time, in winter, is that pleas- 
ant period just after twilight, when the curtains 
are drawn and the family is waiting for dinner — 
a time often irksome to healthy young people. 

I know of a family who, in these spare hours, 

According to an article on -'Valentine's have, without effort, learned much of such whole- 
Day," by Mr. Laurence Hutton, an attempt some works as Taine's " English Literature," 
has been made to find biblical authority for " Plutarch's Lives," Macaulay's " Essays," Stan- 
valentines in the verse Esther ix., 19: "There- ley's "In Darkest Africa," Strickland's "Lives 
fore the Jews of the villages, that dwelt in the of the Queens of England," Prescott's histories, 
unwalled towns, made the fourteenth day of Ruskin's works, and the newly issued Tenny- 
the month Adar a day of gladness and feasting, son's memoirs. 

and a good day, and of sending portions one to Thackeray's shorter writings are excellent for 
another." But Mr. Hutton considers this refer- " half-hour" reading, and so is any book which 
ence hardly in point, since the month Adar one can take up and put down at will, feeling 
seems to correspond as nearly to March as to at the same time that something has been 
February. The Jewish feast Purim takes place gained, a new idea planted, without that con- 
about this time. scious " digging " for it which spoils so much 
Mr. Hutton adds that Valentine's day is of the pleasure of learning. 
Vol. XXVI.— 44. 34s 




hmt 




TTOM 



Don't interrupt your father when he s 

telling funny jokes, 
Don't interrupt your mother when she 's 

entertaining folks ; 
Don't interrupt a visitor, when he has 

come to call, 
In fact, it 's wiser, not to interrupt at 

^1! GeletiBurg ess. 




CURRENT EVENTS. 



the march of the The last years of the cen- 
anglo-saxon t urv witness an advance 
toward Anglo-Saxon precedence in the world. 
Anglo-American would be a better word, as it 
is the English people of various racial deriva- 
tions and the American people of like origin 
who have come to the front. The pure- 
blooded " Anglo-Saxons " are but a small frac- 
tion of the population of both nations. 
the treaty with A treaty of peace has 
spain. ended the war with Spain. 

Spain gives up nearly all her colonies, and re- 
ceives $20,000,000 to pay her for what she may 
have spent on the Philippine Islands. This treaty 
must be ratified by the United States Senate be- 
fore it becomes a law. Many eminent Ameri- 
cans oppose the acquisition of the Philippines. 
Others see nothing but good therein. The real 
strength of either party cannot be justly esti- 
mated before the Senate acts upon the treaty. 
Though the United States may not permanently 
govern the Philippines, the mark of their occu- 
pation of the islands will remain. American 
ideas will have spread, whether American laws 
follow or not. And, after all, the daily habits 
of a people finally determine the laws they 
have, laws being only customs crystallized. 
common sense in The United States have 
diplomacy. not hesitated to say exactly 
what they meant in dealing with the Spanish 
Peace Commission; and diplomatists who think 
mystery is wisdom have sneered at " American 
diplomacy." As the American method has 
been entirely successful, it would seem worth 
while to be honest, even at the cost of the 
ignorant admiration of those who can see no 
; ' smartness " except where there is deceit. 

The Americas may be di- 
vided by a canal cutting the 
land uniting them; the United States needs a 
waterway between the Atlantic and Pacific, and 
whatever the people of the United States really 
desire is very likely to come about. 

THE DREYFUS CASE. ^ ^ ° f ^^ hl 

France is an illustration of 
the peculiar ways of the Latin races — the three 



A GREAT CANAL. 



branches, French, Italian, and Spanish, have 
much in common. Dreyfus, an officer in the 
French army, was accused of selling to the Ger- 
man government information concerning the 
French government. He was tried before a 
military tribunal and convicted of treason. He 
was degraded publicly and sentenced to life- 
imprisonment. Evidence of his innocence has 
turned up since. One of his accusers committed 
suicide. It would seem a most natural thing 
to give the man a new trial before the civil 
authorities; yet for a while it has looked as if 
it would cause a revolution in France to do so. 
Mobs rioted in the streets, the government was 
denounced, and leading men challenged one 
another to duels. Why the people excite them- 
selves so over a question which should be left 
to the courts cannot be readily understood by 
Americans. Possibly they have not the same 
faith in their authorities as we have in ours ; but 
doubtless other factors are the vanity and impa- 
tience of the people. They are not content to 
remain in the background and let those in 
charge run the government, but must throng 
the streets and give voice to their sentiments. 
Nor can they wait till time shall lessen or re- 
move a difficulty; everything must be done at 
once. It goes without saying that such charac- 
teristics make needless difficulties in governing 
either a country or its colonies. 
the trouble France and England were 
in Africa, almost at swords' points over the 
occupation of Fashoda, a small place in Africa, 
by French troops. The English claimed the 
right to manage the territory because of the 
victories of Sir Herbert Kitchener ; and as they 
were angry enough to fight over what they 
considered a piece of impudence on the part of 
France, the latter country withdrew her troops, 
and the war-cloud dissolved. 

General John R. Brooke, 
U. S. A., has been appointed 
military governor of Cuba. All other appoint- 
ees are under his authority, governors of cities 
being under governors of provinces, who, in 
turn, are accountable to General Brooke. 



CUBA'S GOVERNOR. 



348 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



Editorial Notes. 

The frontispiece to this number of St. Nicholas 
represents the scene when Washington, as com- 
mander of the army besieging Yorktown, Virginia, fired 
the first gun from the American batteries. In Dr. Weir 
Mitchell's carefully written historical novel " Hugh 
Wynne," he says (on page 186 of Vol. II.): "On the 
night of the 9th of October, his Excellency [General 
Washington] put a match to the first gun, and for eleven 
days and nights a furious cannonade went on from both 
sides." 

Nowadays, there are in Great Britain few who 
look upon the American Revolution with an unfriendly 
eye. Our English cousins have recently even joined in 
the celebration of the Fourth of July, and it may well be 
that they will unite at some future time in keeping as a 
holiday the birthday of George Washington. 

Mr. Lloyd Osbourne's exciting story, " Amatua's 
Sailor," will lend new interest to the disaster at Samoa 
ten years ago. An illustrated account of the terrible 
storm will be found in St. Nicholas for February, 1890. 



A young friend thus uses the names he finds in the 
indexes to St. Nicholas: 

"A WONDERFUL VOYAGE." 

" St. Nicholas," in company " With the Black 
Prince," left "A Spruce Home," "As Every Laddie 
Does," to travel. They wanted to take a trip up " The 
Great Lakes " with " Captain Crackers and the Moni- 
tor," expected to sail on " Queer American Rivers," 
and to encounter " Ocean Storms" when they went to 
see " The Little Japanese at Home." 

They began their journey in "The Viking Ship," dur- 
ing " An Easter Snow-Storm " ; but the " Buccaneers of 
our Coast" thought they were " Going Too Far," and 
the midshipman, " Master Skylark," who had once lived 
" In Old Florence," asked " A Difficult Question," 
which " The Scribe of Durley " answered with " A 
Needless Apprehension." 

" A Boy of the First Empire " now stepped politely 
forward and said that " The Grandiloquent Goat " was 
butting" Three Little Bears "all over the hold, and added 
that it was " The Height of Impudence." 

" But ' The Little China Dog 's on Guard,' " said " The 
Prince of the Toadstool City." 

" A Baby Elephant " and " An Arch Armadillo " 
stopped the quarrel, and then " The Broken Toy Sol- 
dier " had "A Day-Dream," in which he fancied an 
" Eclipse of the Moon " was taking place. 

During the evening " A Great Republican at Court" 
told " Two Biddicut Boys " that " The Treasure at the 
End of the Rainbow " was what the freebooters were in 
search of, and when they landed, a day or so later, 
took them on " A Thorn-Apple Trip," where they met 
" Mister Hop-Toad," and held " A Learned Discourse." 

One day " The Batfish and the Catfish " caused 
" Two Scares " " On Deck," and " Our Little Gray 
Helper" and "The Giant Baby " both fled for their 
lives, but as it was only "An April Joke," " Juanito 
and Jefe " told them not to be frightened, to which they 
responded with" Some Vagabond Words." 



Then "The California Woodpecker" tore a few 
" Leaves from the Sketch-book of an Animal Artist," 
and broke " The Little Round Plate," much to the dis- 
gust of" The Tufted Titmouse." 

Soon "The Vanes of Nantucket " hove in view, and 
"Three Boys in Armor" said that those always indi- 
cated " Windy Weather." 

When " Snow Days " arrived, they took the advice of 
"Miss Nina Barrow," and started for "The North Pole 
Land " ; on the way they witnessed " Some Russian 
Games," heard " A Daffodil's Sermon," and found out 
" When the Sewing Club Meets." 

They spent " Christmas Eve at Mother Hubbard's," 
and it was voted that from that time forth they should 
have " Christmas Twice a Year." 

" Potiphar and the Fairies " showed " The Lakerim 
Athletic Club" "The Art of Whittling," and told them 
" How the Whale Got his Tiny Throat " ; then they be- 
came " Confidential," and said that there was to be "An 
Air-Line Express " from " The Gun-Foundry at Wash- 
ington, D. C," to " Uncle Sam's ' Farm ' in Canada." 

While sailing to " The Kingdom of Yvetot," they had 
"A Brush with Malay Pirates," and were held up by 
"The Highwayman of Durley." 

After traveling " Through the Earth," " The Last 
Three Soldiers " practised "Amateur Photography," and 
took" A Butterfly Girl," who had "Some New Birds of 
Paradise " on her hat. 

When they again got home, one of them said : " Why 
not stay 'A Year with Denise and Ned Toodles ' ? " 

It was " A Wise Conclusion," and as there was nothing 
to hinder, they went, with the " Ceremonies and Eti- 
quette of a Man-of-War." 

Harold Thomas Husted. 



Holani Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I live far away in the Ha- 
waiian Islands, in a beautiful place by the name of 
Holani Pa. I have been here for some time, and I ex- 
pect to stay for some time to come, but for all that I 
enjoy myself very much, but never more than when I 
can sit under the trees and read my St. Nicholas. 
I have been taking the magazine ever since I was three 
years old, that is, for nine years, and it has become the 
most precious book I have. I must close now, as I will 
go crazy if I don't read my November number. Hop- 
ing to see this printed in the January number, I remain 
Your devoted reader, 

Harvey Graham. 



Stephens Green, Dublin, Ireland. 
Dear St. Nicholas : We have taken St. Nicho- 
las four years, and like it better and better every month. 
I live in Dublin. This summer I went to the country. 
I used to help make the hay every evening. I used to go 
to bathe with a gentleman. There was a lovely fruit-gar- 
den ; most of the fruit was ripe. I used to drive a don- 
key every day. I used to wade in the river in shoes, 
because it was so stony, and catch crawfish. They are 
like small lobsters, about the size of prawns. 

Your faithful reader, Reginald Smyth. 



San Francisco, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little girl eight years 

old, and I received the St. Nicholas as a present for 

my eighth birthday from my father, who is an officer in 

the Second United States Volunteer Engineers. They 



349 



35o 



THE LETTER-BOX. 



were in camp at Montauk Point, Long Island, New York. 
A United States engineer regiment's business is to do all 
kinds of engineering — laying out camps, surveying, etc. 
My father's regiment laid out the camp, built the pump- 
ing works at Montauk Point, and did many such things. 
Camp Wikoff was built to receive our " Santiago 
heroes," who won us such a great -victory at Santiago 
de Cuba. There is quite a large camp out here at San 
Francisco for the soldiers that are going to Manila. 
I like the St. Nicholas very much, and I remain, 

Your loving reader, Margie Savage. 



INDIAN PIPES. 
(Monotropa uniflora.) 

Why thus avoid the sun all day ? 

The sun is bright and clear, 
And throws its rays on everything — 

On things both far and near. 

Why do you nestle in the dark ? 

Upon dry leaves you lie ; 
Quite hard to find, you 're seldom seen — 

Unknown by bird and fly. 

Other flowers come in the sun, 

But you do hide your face ; 
They 're easily seen — you must be sought, 

You 've such a dismal place. 

When plucked away from your dark bed, 

And taken in the light, 
The sun's sweet rays do make you black ; 

When hidden you are white. 

Within the woods no neighbors near, 

A hermit all alone, 
It seems so strange that in the dark 

Your seeds are always sown. 

Muriel Rice (nine years old). 



Glendale, Kimble County, Tex. 

Dear St. Nicholas: My sister Meta and I have 
had your magazine two years, and like it very much. 
We are eight and ten years old. We do not yet under- 
stand quite all of it, but we are going to keep the maga- 
zines and have them bound ; then we can have them to 
read when we are older. 

We live twenty-six miles from a little town. We have 
two ponies of our own. Mine is " Snowball," and sis- 
ter's is called " Baldy." Sometimes we go on long rides. 
We ride four miles to fetch the mail. In the spring we 
ride out to see the lambs and kids. Last spring a great 
many died because there was no grass ; but this sum- 
mer we have had plenty of rain. On Saturday we 
generally ride all the morning, but the other days we 
have school. 

We have a school-room a few steps from the house. 
There are so many squirrels in the pecan-trees around 
it that they sometimes come into the school-room. We 
like school-days better than holidays. We have a collie 
dog named "Punch," and a puppy named "Dewey." 
They wait outside the school-room door all the morning 
till we come out to play, and every time they hear us 
move they get up and wag their tails. 

We learned to swim in the creek this summer, and when 
the dogs came in to swim, we hung on to their tails, and 



they helped us along. Punch plays hide-and-seek with us 
as well as a child. He climbs up the trees after us, and is 
very fond of shaking hands. We have a pond behind 
the spring-house. There are lots of crawfishes, and we 
catch them with pieces of meat tied on strings. 

When my cousin stayed with us this summer we 
caught eighty-five pounds of catfish. We made a boat 
out of a salt-trough. We used it to set our trout-line. 

We are learning to play the piano. We have learned 
for about one year. We play duets. 

I am, dear St. Nicholas, yours sincerely, 

Elsie Paterson. 



Barry Road, Dulwich, London, S. E. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I like your magazine very much. 
I have taken it for a long time. 

I do not know if the cruel custom of having bearing- 
reins on horses is common in America. It is very bad 
in the West End of London, where the horses have to 
stand for hours, with their heads held up by this rein, 
waiting for the master and mistress enjoying themselves 
at dances, etc. 

I am at Dulwich College Preparatory School, which is 
very nice. I have been learning German for a year. 

It seems very funny to see in the magazine " Ships 
from Our Navy," because it seems to us as if they ought 
to be English ships. 

This summer I went to Shanklin, in the Isle of Wight. 
It was very nice there. Afterward I went to my cous- 
ins' near Hampton Court, on the Thames. One night 
we went for a lovely row in the moonlight. 

It seems very funny that though it is 4:30 P. M. when 
I am writing this letter, it is about II A. M. in New York. 

I want to come to the United States very much. 

I live about two miles from the Crystal Palace, which 
is very nice. I do not know any American people. 

Your interested reader, H. W. Peet. 



We thank the young wri- 
ters whose names follow for 
the interesting letters they 
have sent : Olga Williams, 
Ethel Sasse, Mary Morgan, 
James N. Young, Mildred 
Carter, Fred Stearns, Lula 
Gifford, Margaret Seilern, 
Virginia Russell, Melanie G. 
Weil, Frances MacDonald, 
Willie Schenck, Helen Hor- 
ton, John Burns, Louise 
Ruggles, James Lackland 
Christie, Lucy Koether, Doris 
Beardslee, Mary D. Smith, 
Dorothy Carpenter, Dorothy 
Pluggard, Miriam McLoud, 
Bennet Sullivan, " Pussy " 

McCormick, Ruth and 

Eleanor , Kendall Morse, 

William H. L. Williams, 
Christian Miller, Mathilde 
Parlett, Ayllys Roberts, Jer- 
ome Rockwell, Alice Kimball 
Fisher, A. R. P., Florence 
and Herbert Rose, D. T., 
Edith Shoemaker, Alfred H. 
Bragdon, Bessie Herman, 
Berkely B. Blake, Malcolm 
S. Nichols. 





o. rje (cieccs). 7. tL. 

A Swarm of Bees. i. Barm. 2. Barrow. 
Beagle. 5. Bear. 6. Bell. 7. Bethel. 8. Bill. 9. Blear 
12. Bland. 13. Beach. 14. Broad. 



ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER. 

Word-square Pyramid. I. 1. 
4. Rita. II. 1. Char. 2. Hare. 
Able. 2. Blue. 3. Lull. 4. Eels. 



Diamond, i. S. 2. Ape. 3. Abide. 4. Spicule. 5. Educe. 
6. Ele (Elects). 7. E. 



Bray. 



Meet. 2. Deep. 3. 
7. Need. 8. Feed. 9. 



Incomplete Rhomboid. Across: 
Leer. 4. Meek. 5. Peer. 6. Lees. 

Deem. 10. Reed. Downward: 1. M. 2. Ed. 3. Eel. 4. Teem 
5. Peep. 6. Reel. 7. Keen. 8. Reef. 9. Seed. 10. Deer. 11 
Dee. 12. Me. 13. D. 



Illustrated Puzzle. 
Dodo. 5. Tapir. 6. Seal. 7. Kite 
Lynx. n. Spoonbill. 12. Boa. 



Toucans. 2. Gnus. 3. Bat. 4. 
8. Crane. 9. Beaver. 10. 



Charade. Excuse. 



Tier. 2. I N R I. 3. Erst. 
3. Area. 4. Rear. III. 1. 



Word-syncopations. Twelfth Night, 
owe-red. 3. Re-new-ed. 4. 
7. Pari-she-s. 8. S-inn-ing. 
Hea-the-r. 12. W-ate-ring. 

Atlas. 



Rot-ate-s. 2. Sh- 

P-all-et."s. Cr-aft-y. 6. Poll-ute-s. 

9. De-fin-ed. 10. B-egg-ar. 11. 



Thank. 3. Lalla (Rookh). 4. 



Word-square. 
Anlet. 5. Skate. 

Csncealed Central Acrostic. Beginning. 1. 
There. 3. Angle. 4. Thine. 5. Inner. 6. Dance. 
8. Tones. 9. Tiger. 



Fiber. 2. 
7. Feint. 



To our Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the November Number were received, before November 15th, from Mabel Miller Johns — 
Helen C. McCleary — AUil and Adi — Nessie and Freddie. 

Answers to Puzzles in the November Number were received, before November 15th, from Mary K. Rake, 3 — Paul Reese, 9 
— "Queen Bess," 2 — "Honour Bright,"2 — W. L. S, 1 — No name, Evanston, III., 4 — Clara Anthony, 8 — Mama and Betty, 8 — 
Musgrave Hyde, 8. 



A WHIRLIGIG. 




When the pointer is over the correct object, the 
initials of the seven objects (in the order in which they 
are shown) will spell the name of a famous institution. 



ZIGZAG. 

All of the words described contain the same number 
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed 
one below another in the order here given, the zigzag, 



beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell the 
sobriquet of an American general. 

Cross-words : i. A measure of distance. 2. Unu- 
sual. 3. To await. 4. A state of profound insensibility. 
5. Crooked. 6. A heavenly body. 7. A deception. 8. 
To couple. 9. A staff. 10. A float. 

"JERSEY QUARTETTE." 
CONNECTED SQUARES. 



I. Upper Left-hand Square: i. Common in 
many schools. 2. Part of a stove. 3. An island of 
Japan. 4. A pretentious, vulgar person. 

II. Upper Right-hand Square: i. Kitchen uten- 
sils. 2. A sign. 3. A country of South America. 4. 
To rebuff. 

III. Central Square: i. Obstructs. 2. To pro- 
ject. 3. Impolite. 4. A stage of progress. 

IV. Lower Left-hand Square: i. To assemble. 
2. The ending of a prayer. 3. A scriptural name. 4. 
To close sharply. 

V. Lower Right-hand Square: i. A tree. 2. A 
heathen god. 3. Christmas. 4. Certain measures of 
length. ' FLOYD and jo. 



351 



352 



THE RIDDLE-BOX. 



WORD - SQUARES. 

2. A flower 



3. A conti- 
3. Close. 4. 



I. I. A MOUNTAIN chain, 
nent. 4. Slender. 

II. 1. A hard substance. 2. Past. 
Falls into error. 

III. 1. A dwelling. 2. A kitchen necessity. 3. 
Reward. 4. Finishes. 

IV. 1. A horse. 2. An exclamation. 3. Grate. 4. 
To see. 

V. 1. A cupola. 2. Verbal. 3. A common abbre- 
viation. 4. Otherwise. 

AGNES K. BAKER AND STARR LLOYD. 

ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL. 




All the words pictured contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed, and placed one below the 
another, in the order numbered, the diagonal (from the 
upper left-hand letter to the lower right-hand letter) will 
spell the name of a famous American hunter and pioneer. 

CHARADE. 

A word am I of sections four ; 
One body I make of many more. 
Con well my first, and learn by this 
Old Sol himself my second is ; 
I am my third, and not too late 
To bring my fourth quite "up to date." 
JULIA ROGERS. 

PROGRESSIVE NUMERICAL ENIGMAS. 

(Boys' and Girls' 1 Names.) 

1. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 scolded 1-2-3; "4~5~6~7 is not 
my name," he said. 

2. Miss I-2-3, 4~5 y° ur brother 1-2-3-4-5 going to 
the city to-day ? 

3. " 1 2-3-4-5 for me, 1-2-3-4-5," said the distressed 
husband to his sick wife. 

4. Oh, Uncle 1-2, 3-4-5 formed on the creek last 
night, and 1-2-3-4-5 and I are going to have such fun! 

5. 1-2-3-4-5-6, you should not 1-2-3 4 - 5~6 pans in 
that way. 



6. That color is too glaring, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 ; I prefer 
a 1-2-3-4 5-6-7, so to speak. 

7. " Neither child, woman, I-2-3 4-5-6 escaped," 
read 1-2-3-4-5-6 from the dime novel. 

8. If you 1-2-3-4 5-6-7-8 very fine, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, 
it makes good flour. 

9. She said " 1-2-3 4-5-6" was named I-2-3-4-5-6." 

10. Your daughter 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 1-2 3 4-5-6-7-8, 
I am told. M. e. FLOYD. 

RIDDLE. 

Up and down I rove, 

And oft the sky I seek ; 
I have a language known to all, 

Though none have heard me speak. 

'T is true I sometimes swim; 

And yet, if you should look, 
I might be cast upon the ground, 

Or fastened to a hook. 

I quickly hide from view 

When danger is about ; 
Don't meddle with me, lest you feel 

Quite hurt if I 'm put out. 

A. M. P. 
DIAMOND. 

I. In richness. 2. A Greek letter. 3. Devises. 4. 
An English poet. 5. A kind of tape. 6. To observe. 
7. In richness. "jersey quartette." 

GEOGRAPHICAL PRIMAL ACROSTIC. 

When the following names have been rightly guessed 
and written one below another, their initials will spell 
the name of a famous place. 

CROSS-WORDS : I. An island belonging to Italy. 2. 
A town of Scotland. 3. A lake of Switzerland. 4. A 
city of Japan. 5. A county of Nova Scotia. 6. A lake 
and river of Canada. 7. A river of British India. 8. 
A river of Venezuela. s. s. k. 

CONCEALED CENTRAL ACROSTIC. 

There 's something that 's honored concealed in this 

rhyme ; 
Mayhap you 've one, too, in this late winter-time. 

CROSS-WORDS. 

1. When Robin-a-bobbin found melons in spots, 
He tied up his shoe-strings in true-lovers' knots. 

2. And when he caught chestnuts, boiled soft in a trap, 
He put on his halo inside of his cap. 

3. The man or the woman who lost a red hen 
Begged Robin-a-bobbin to find it again. 

4. He was famed as a hunter, renowned as a sage, 
Till he shook with a palsy and tottered with age. 

5. Though brave as a lion, he shuddered with awe 
When he heard the weird voice of his brother-in-law. 

6. The frequent defeat of the whole treble clef 
Left him sadder and wiser and partially deaf. 

7. When semitones suffered because of his kin, 

He was grieved and ashamed and declared it a sin. 

8. So each day, while his musical relative slept, 
He went to a laundry adjacent and wept. 

ANNA M. PRATT. 



THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK. 




bt PERMISSION OF BRAUN, CLEMENT &. CO., NEW YORK AND PARIS. 

LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD. 

(ENGRAVED FOR ST. NICHOLAS FROM THE PAINTING BY G. FERRIER.) 



ST. NICHOLAS. 



Vol. XXVI. 



MARCH, 1899. 



No. 5. 




By Mrs. Burton Harrison. 



One glorious midday of August, Henry Clai- 
borne, a recent graduate of an American uni- 
versity, found himself sitting down to rest and 
to eat his luncheon in the shade of a tree over- 
hanging a shepherd's hut on the Seisseralp in 
Tyrol. 

Since landing at Antwerp in July, he had 
moved leisurely southward by rail, boat, or 
bicycle as far as Atzwang in the Austrian 
Tyrol. He was here tempted by the idea of a 
pedestrian tour through the Dolomites — those 
mighty limestone hills that rear themselves like 
semi-precious gems of many colors between the 
southeastern Tyrol and northern Italy. 

Claiborne had, in addition, a dreamy idea of 
seeing Venice, and possibly Florence; but, as 
he often declared to himself, the chief point of 
an expedition like this was to have no plans 
for further than twenty-four hours ahead. 

The second day of his solitary expedition 
with "scrip and staff" brought him, as has been 

Copyright, 1899, by The Century Co. 
355 



said, to the enjoyment of a rural meal of rich 
yellow cream served in a wooden bowl, brown 
bread, and mountain cheese, furnished by the 
shepherd's wife, the proprietor of one of many 
tiny brown chalets scattered over the vast 
emerald pasture of the Alp. 

All about him waved grass and flowers; only 
the tinkle of cow-bells, the song of many birds, 
and the hum of insects broke the enchantment 
of the hour. The views on every side were of 
grand mountain-tops and near-by rocky crags. 
The one thing wanting to his perfect satisfac- 
tion was — somebody whom he could tell how 
much he was enjoying himself alone ! 

He laughed aloud when he discovered in 
himself this trait of human nature honestly in- 
herited from his great ancestor, Adam. The 
brown-skinned woman of the chalet, running 
out to look after him, laughed also, in sympa- 
thetic merriment. And at that moment Henry 
espied, coming across the rich verdure of the 

AH rights reserved. 



356 



IN THE TOY-COUNTRY. 



[Mar. 



plain from the direction in which he meant 
presently to go, a cavalcade consisting of a 
couple of travelers on mules, conducted by a 
young peasant, who was occupied in picking 
a bouquet for one of them. 

" That is my Mr. Claiborne, papa, who picked 
me up when the ship spilled me out of my deck- 
chair," cried a child's joyous voice. 

Claiborne sprang to his feet, and waved his 
hat, calling out, " How do you do?" He had 
at once recognized two fellow-passengers on 
the steamer from New York, with whom the 
accidents of a voyage had put him into 
pleasant intercourse. 

He had been interested from the first day 
out in the tall, pale, and melancholy-looking 
man to whose hand clung a quaint" little girl 
of the Alice-in-Wonderland type. They were 
both in mourning, and, keeping apart from the 
other passengers, were said to have been re- 
cently bereaved of the child's mother, and to 
be going abroad for the health of the father, 
who had scarcely recovered from serious illness. 

Everybody on deck had soon made friends 
with Rosabel. She was never seen without 
two armfuls of dollies, of which the favorite 
was a very homely German lady of the cheap, 
jointed pattern, painted in staring blacks and 
whites and reds. The complaints, tastes, and 
tempers of this family of dolls were in time 
known to the whole ship's company. 

And here, in a remote sylvan haunt of the 
wild Alps, had Claiborne come again upon 
the father and daughter. He saluted them 
cordially, struck — and saying so — with the 
look of vigor Mr. Morland had taken on, as 
well as the new light in his eyes, the more 
frequent smile upon his lips. 

" You see, too, how much better Gretchen- 
Augusta looks," said Rosabel, extending for the 
young man's notice the well-remembered old 
wooden doll. " Frau Berger says it is because 
she has returned to the place of her birth — that 
no one born in the Grodner Valley is ever as well 
out of it. You know. Mr. Claiborne, we came 
here for Gretchen-Augtista's health. As soon as 
she found out, in Botzen, she was so near the 
town she was born in, she would never let me 
rest until we arrived at St. Ulrich." 

" For ' Gretchen-Augusta ' read ' Rosabel,' " 



supplemented Rosabel's father, teasingly. " It 
is an actual fact, Claiborne, that I let myself be 
decoyed into the Grodner Valley because some- 
body in Botzen told Rosie her most beloved 
doll had probably been made at St. Ulrich. 
We have been stopping there for two weeks 
now, and I am beginning to feel like Gulliver 
among the Lilliputs." 

" I suppose I am very stupid/' said Claiborne, 
helping his friends to dismount, and offering 
them a share of his repast, which was at once 
reinforced by fresh supplies from the good 
woman of the chalet ; " but I don't understand 
your allusion to the Lilliputians ; and I 'm 
afraid I never even heard of St. Ulrich. What 
and where is it ? " 

" May I tell him what St. Ulrich is, papa ? " 
cried Rosabel, with wide eyes. " Why, Mr. 
Claiborne, it 's the place the toys come 
from." 

" You must forgive me, Rosabel ; but it is so 
long since I played with toys, I had forgotten 
this important fact, if, indeed, I ever knew any- 
thing about it." 

" You will never be likely to forget it again," 
said Mr. Morland ; " that is, if you return with 
us and spend a night or two at the inn in St. 
Ulrich, as I hope you will. The air is so fine, 
and they are making me so comfortable at their 
little hostelry, that I have no desire to move on. 
And Rosie, for once, has enough of toys. The 
effect upon her of seeing thousands of dolls in 
various stages of growth by attachments, cart- 
loads of arms and legs and torsos, has been to 
confirm her affections upon this poor old bat- 
tered wreck of a Gretchen-Augusta, from whom 
now she never parts. I venture to tell you 
this while she and Gretchen-Augusta are inside 
the chalet visiting the herdsman's wife. Her 
affection for her treasure is too genuine to 
admit of joking. But you will be amused by 
an incursion into veritable Toyland." 

" I have keen recollections of diving hope- 
lessly into great shops, near Christmas- time, to 
buy gifts for my small nephews and nieces," 
replied Claiborne, " and of being trodden on, 
pushed, jammed, driven hither and thither, before 
I could escape with a woolly baa-lamb or a set 
of laundry-tubs hugged to my despairing breast. 
But otherwise, I confess, I had forgotten the 



i8 9 9- 



IN THE TOY-COUNTRY. 



357 



existence of such an in- 
dustry as toy-making." 

" You will be forcibly 
reminded of it in the Grod- 
nerthal. Except for a 
fair collection of Etruscan 
relics taken from tombs 
hereabout, and the deco- 
rations of the carved fig- 
ures for use in churches, 
— of which, especially of 
patron saints, vast num- 
bers are made there, — 
there is nothing of greater 
importance in the valley 
than the construction of 
jumping-jacks.and Noah's 
arks, villages, rocking- 
horses, animals on rollers, 
and wooden dolls of every 
style and size. The art 
of making these toys is 
hereditary — grandchil- 
dren working in the wake 
of their grandsires — 
mothers, fathers, sons, and 
daughters all taking 
a hand at it. What robs 
their work of individu 
ality, however, is that one 
family will devote itself 
exclusively to fabricating 
arms, another to legs, 
another to heads or bodies. 
When the dolls are finally 
put together they are 

passed on to artists who apply the outer coat 
of brilliant red, black, white, blue, or grass- 
green paint required to complete the fasci- 
nation of the charmer. With the final touch 
of a pair of white stockings with red garters 
and green or yellow slippers, the doll is sent 
out upon the cold mercies of the buying 
world. And I forgot to tell you that many of 
the lay-figures used in artists' studios are made 
in these workrooms of St. Ulrich." 

Claiborne did not require much pressing to 
turn aside from his walking-trip and visit this 
curious spot. When they had left behind the 
lovely hanging garden of the Seisseralp, and 




ROSABEL AND HER FATHER AND MR. CLAIBORNE ENTERING THE 
TOWN OF TOY-MAKERS. 



had plunged downward, their way lay through 
a darkly shaded gorge, over a path in parts so 
steep and so moist with recent rain that the 
mules gave up attempting to pick a footing, 
and allowed themselves to slide. 

Still lower down, the mountain-slopes were 
sprinkled with tiny hamlets, in which it was not 
difficult to recognize the originals of those 
German viilages-in-boxes dear to children of 
all nationalities. Here were the red roofs, the 
bright-green shutters, the clipped trees conical 
in shape and guarding the front doors, the 
garden-patches, mossy in texture, bedight with 
gayest flowers and beehives ranged in rows. 



358 



IX THE TOY-COUNTRY. 



[Mar. 




Sitting at little tables out of doors were seen 
the peasants taking their evening ease over 
a jug of beer, the good wives knitting in the 
doorways, and all bestowing a friendly greeting 
upon the passers-by. 

No less attractive of aspect was the thriving 
town itself, the chief center of Toyland, for 
which these scattered dwellings had prepared 
the eye. Like Oberammergau in the Bavarian 
highlands, and Interlaken and Brienz in 
Switzerland, St. Ulrich has been for many long 
years the headquarters in southeastern Tyrol 
of skilled carvers in wood. Here agricultural 
interests, except on the smallest and most 
necessary scale, are superseded by the universal 
industry of making playthings. How different 
from any manufacturing town Claiborne had 
seen in England or America was this assem- 
blage of bright, smart-looking, and highly deco- 
rated houses and churches, each having its 
green yard and shade-trees, and all invitingly 
placed against a background of wooded hills, 
above the bed of a rushing mountain-stream ! 

As they passed through the chief street, Clai- 
borne fancied himself one of those mortals 
whom the wave of a fairy's wand has trans- 
formed into dimensions suitable to the full en- 
joyment of things meant only for little folk. 
Every cottage bore some token of the devotion 
of its inmates to miniature constructions. A 
girl passed them, leading a donkey whose 
panniers contained nothing but toy dogs, cut 
out of wood and destitute of paint. A boy 
bent forward under a shoulder-pack full of 
white-whiskered monkeys destined to be affixed 
to springs and to be shut up in paper-covered 
boxes, there to be kept in durance by an in- 
sufficient hook. Another basket revealed a 
multitude of toy Noahs — enough, indeed, 
of those familiar patriarchs in yellow gowns, 



with blue knobs in lieu of heads, to have saved 
from deluge the survivors of all the planets, as 
well as the elect of this our own little world. 

" Think of the monotony of constructing only 
Noahs — of not even changing to Shems or 
Hams or Japhets!" observed Claiborne to his 
friends. 

" I will take you, to-morrow, to see an old 
crone who every working-day of her life, for 
five-and-twenty years, has painted twelve dozen 
red horses with white spots," answered Mr. 
Morland, laughing. 

Soon Claiborne was ensconced in clean quar- 
ters in a sweet-smelling room which was merely 
the inside of a highly finished pine box. The 
evening meal, served to their party by solid- 
looking maidens with cheeks of apple-red, was 
substantial and well cooked. After enjoying 
this and a mug of excellent native beer, — while 
in the very middle of a concert of guitars and 
zithers tendered to the strangers by experts from 
the village, — the young man felt himself nod- 
ding. The pure air of the Alpine heights, his 
long walk, and the good food and drink, had 
combined to overcome his politeness. His 
head dropped upon his breast. When he next 
knew anything, Mr. Morland was shaking him 
up and sending him off to the downy recesses 
of a giant feather-bed. 

Early next day little Rosabel assumed charge 
of the newcomer. 

" Gretchen- Augusta has had rather a restless 
night," she said, joining Claiborne after break- 
fast, where he was smoking his pipe before the 
inn door; "and as papa has letters to write, 
I asked him to sit by her and let me go around 
with you. We left most of my dolls in a trunk 
in Munich, and papa thinks Gretchen-Augusta 
is moping for company. Since we have been 
here, he has asked me every day to pick out a 






i8 W -] 



W 



IN THE TOY-COUNTRY. 

£*„. 



359 




new companion for her, and I could not make 
up my mind. To-day I thought you would help 
me a little in my choice. Papa is n't very 
clever about dolls, Mr. Claiborne, though he 
tries ever so hard to like them." 

" I will do my best to merit the implied 
compliment," said Claiborne, with gravity. 

" You may wonder why I don't take my 
child out with me ; but I have good reasons. 
It is very rude the way people stare at her in 
St. Ulrich. One painting person asked me to 
let her be ' done over ' ! Another said I ought 
to throw her away and buy a beauty she had 
to sell. Imagine papa throwing me away and 
getting a brand-new daughter because I had a 
little of the end rubbed off my nose and my 
cheeks were rather streaky ! " 

" Impossible to imagine it, Miss Morland. I 
vote for the preservation of Gretchen-Augusta 
' as is,' for the head of your little family; and if 
we see anybody worthy to be her comrade, we 
shall purchase her forthwith." 

" I am a little afraid one of those shiny ones 
might make Gretchen-Augusta jealous," said 
Rosie, with anxious brows. 

Hand in hand, the young man and the child 
made the rounds of the principal shops and 
warerooms. 

Rosabel, although evidently weighted with 
the care of her momentous selection, did not 
neglect to exhibit to her friend the various 
points indicated by Mr. Morland as most likely 
to engage his interest. 

In an upper room of one of the great ware- 
houses they saw lying in heaps upon the floor, 
like corn dropped from the sheller, thousands 
of the small, cheap jointed dolls most favored 
by the " little mothers of the poor." 



" I don't know what they remind me of, un- 
less it be whitebait," said Claiborne; and the 
polite proprietor who was showing the visitors 
around could not understand the reason for 
Rosie's sudden merriment. 

" These will be packed and sent to England, 
America — everywhere," explained the master 
of the place. " In this bin, as you see, are 
wooden dogs; in the others horses, cows, goats, 
camels, elephants — all kinds of cheap beasts, 
in fact. Down below we have a better grade 
of animals, painted, harnessed, with bells and 
rollers. Here are our low-grade rocking-horses 
— black, covered with red spots like wafers. In 
the show-rooms below there are handsome 
ones — beauties fit for a little prince to ride ; 
and dolls, yes, dolls that would make the young 
lady's eyes shine." 

But Rosie was not to be tempted. She went 
the rounds of the best dealers, saw more than 
one elaborate creation of doll art of which it was 
averred that the duplicate had gone to some 
juvenile high-and-mightiness, and from every- 
where came away irresolute. 

" I am afraid you are hard to please, Rosie," 
said her tall companion. " Why, even my 
heart beat high at the sight of that last beauty 
they unpacked for us." 

"Ah! — but you see, Mr. Claiborne, how 
would my poor Gretchen-Augusta feel when 
they made comparisons between the two ? " 

" That is a difficulty. On the whole, Rosie, 
what do you say to giving up the new doll 
altogether, and sticking to Gretchen-Augusta ? " 

" Do you really think I might ? " cried the 
child, evidently relieved of a weight of care. 

" Of course I do. Sterling worth before 
beauty, any day ! My own impression is that 



360 



IN THE TOY-COUNTRY. 



[Mar. 



if I were traveling about in a strange land, as 
you are, I should consider Gretchen-Augusta's 
company a boon." 

Rosie's face continued to brighten. She 
looked so happy and trustful that Claiborne's 
heart smote him for making sport of her. For 
the remainder of the morning she devoted her- 
self to the business of showing him in and out 
of the establishments whose proprietors had 
evidently a soft 
spot in their 

hearts for the !j - 

little American 
coming to take 
up her abode 
among them in 
her deep-mourn- 
ing garb. 

Before they 
had half finished 
their tour of 
inspection, Mr. 
Claiborne had 
seen toy soldiers 
enough to girdle 
the German em- 
pire ; flotillas of 
Noah's arks ; 
boxes upon boxes 
of villages, rail- 
way-cars, drays, 
wagons; of forts, 
omnibuses,hand- 
organs, fire-en- 
gines ; of boats ; 
shelves on shelves 
of dolls' heads 
smiling the im- 
memorial smile 
of their species; 

animals of all known and many composite 
varieties — a glut of playthings, a weariness 
of toys! 

Our friends next visited the church, aglow 
inside with tributes from the best painters and 
gilders of the Tyrol, and were there joined by 
Mr. Morland, who soon afterward cordially in- 
vited them to return to the inn for their mid- 
day meal. 

"You will be quite ready for roast veal and 



' EVEN THE CHILDREN WORK AT MAKING TOYS 



compote of plums